Star Trek: Enterprise - The Ancient Force
by allen.bair
Summary: When a rogue section of Starfleet intelligence begins research in the Sith and the dark side of the Force, in order to counter them, an ascended Jedi Master must return to mortality to restore the memories and training of the last living Jedi Knight, Lieutenant Travis Mayweather. A sequel to "Star Trek: Enterprise - In a Galaxy Far, Far Away."
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The black uniformed figures moved throughout the old facility hidden deep under the tons of rock, trees, and living things that the people who lived on this world continued to call "Cheyenne Mountain." The being of pure light moved among them, watching, observing every action, but taking care to not interfere with any of it.

Some days, non-interference was more challenging than others as the god-like being became increasingly disturbed by what he witnessed.

He was even more disturbed by what was within the minds of the black uniformed men, and their intentions in their use of the old United States Air Force base which he had, at one time over a century ago when he was still a mortal human being, thought of as his home.

But he could do nothing about it.

The Others would stop him if they knew he intervened in mortal affairs, and they almost always knew. It was their highest law, and one which he understood the reasons for: no ascended being will interfere with the free will and choices of those on the mortal plane of existence, regardless of the consequences of that non-interference. Regardless of their immense power, they were not gods, and neither were they going to play gods.

Most of the time, he had agreed with it and learned to live with it. In his mortal life he had seen the consequences of ascended beings like himself accepting or even encouraging worship as a deity, and it always became problematic at best for both the ascended and the mortals involved. At worst, it could have catastrophic consequences on the mortals in question.

He could, in theory, return to the mortal plane, but in so doing he would be signing his own death certificate. If he "descended", there was very little chance he would be able to return, and he would die as any other mortal. Furthermore, as a mortal he would be powerless to do anything about what these men were planning, and he would most likely not remember why he had descended in the first place unless he wanted to risk brain damage from trying to retain everything he now knew as an ascended being.

Thus, he could only observe the scene unfolding before him in silence.

The black uniformed men were a clandestine branch of the United Earth government's emerging military and exploration force commonly called "Starfleet". Much like the branch of the United States Air Force which, in his mortal life, had been his former employer, few in Starfleet even knew of their existence, and then they only referred to them by the clause in Starfleet's charter which supposedly justified their creation, "Section Thirty-One". They were considered a part of Starfleet's intelligence unit, though in reality they answered to practically no one.

But, unlike the friends and colleagues he had once worked with in this very place, these men, especially their commanding officer, felt "dark." That was the best way he could explain it to himself. And though he knew their thoughts and thus knew where the darkness was coming from, he still couldn't fully explain it.

Ancient documents and books which had formally been in the possession of the estate of a well known film maker from the ascended being's days as a mortal had come into the possession of Section thirty one's commanding officer. That, in and of itself, wasn't concerning. Section Thirty One collected and stored vast amounts of information to be used for their own purposes, ostensibly in the support and security of Starfleet and Earth's government. But what these men had been doing with those documents…

Like his own clandestine military organization a hundred and fifty years prior, they had been trying to study ascension, the process whereby a sentient, mortal being sheds his physical form and "ascends" to a higher plane of existence as a being of pure light and energy.

They had first learned about the reality of it upon their study of this facility's database when it was first discovered. If they had just stuck to what was in the database, everything would have been fine.

But then "the mission" happened. The one in which he himself had personally gotten caught up in, and thrown millions of years into the past and billions of light years to the other side of the universe along with the crew of Starfleet's flagship, the NX-01 " _Enterprise_ ", and what he had thought to be mere science fiction became a new reality for him to contend with.

That was when he, and then they, had learned that the "Star Wars" films were history and not fiction, the "Force" was real, and that somehow it was tied to the process of ascension. It was shortly after that when Section Thirty One discreetly raided the private estate archives of the family of George Lucas and searched far and wide for every book, every notebook, and every scrap of paper that had ever belonged to the man.

The ascended being stood in the room where those documents were now kept. It wouldn't take much. Just a single thought from him, and all of these documents would be destroyed. Just a flick of his will, and the original self-destruct charges could be set off, and everything in this underground bunker would be vaporized in a nuclear explosion. He could even contain the explosion so that it didn't reach where he didn't want it to go.

But then the Others would know. And for them, no good deed went unpunished. But what were the consequences for humanity, even for the rest of the galaxy if he didn't?

"A disturbance in the Force I sensed. Dark things there are here." An aged and gravelly voice spoke to him.

If he had still been mortal, Daniel would have spun around in total surprise. As it was, the image the being who had joined him projected was that of a very small green skinned creature with large, kind eyes and long elf like ears with a tiny wooden cane held in his three fingered right hand. The image of him wore a brown and tan habit much like that of a monk.

"Surprised to see me you are?" The diminutive ascended being chuckled.

"To say the least." Daniel responded. "The last time we met we were ninety billion light years across the universe, and millions of years ago. How did you…?"

"Travel through time? I did not." His companion responded amiably. "Except the way everyone must. Millions of years have I watched, and traveled with those who came after as they moved across the vastness of space and time. Gone is the civilization I knew, but the way of the Force change is. These people, this galaxy, the heirs of our legacy they are."

The simple, profound truth of his statement struck Daniel in a way he had never truly thought of.

The other being continued as his motioned in the direction of Section Thirty One's commanding officer who was several rooms away. "Dangerous is this man's research. Capable of causing the same wars, the same conflicts we fought to end is he. Destroy this young civilization he will." The small aged being continued.

"Yeah, that's my concern too." Daniel answered him, again contemplating the self-destruct charges.

"Don't." His companion said. "Know your mind I do. Sacrifice yourself, do not. Another way, there may be."

"I didn't know we could read each other's minds." Daniel said.

"Not hard it was to know your intent. Watch you in your mortal life I did. Know what kind of a person you are, I do. A waste it would be. Understand, the Others would not." The ancient master responded.

"But you do, don't you, Master Yoda?" He asked.

"Yes." Yoda replied. "And agree with you I do, Daniel Jackson."

"So... what's our alternative?" Daniel asked.

"Rising once more the Sith may be. To counter them, a Jedi is needed." He responded.

"Okay. But the Jedi order is long gone. There are no more Jedi, master Yoda." Daniel was trying to see where the ancient Jedi grandmaster was going with this, but it seemed like a dead end.

"Wrong you are, Daniel Jackson. One there remains. Forgotten he has, by your hand. Needed is he now. Remember he must, train he must." Yoda told him.

"One remains..." Daniel tried to understand. Then he realized whom the Jedi master was speaking of and began to shake his shimmering projected head. "That would forever alter the course of his life, not to mention the course of this galaxy's progress. He's already been struggling to cope."

"Know this I do. But a choice we have not. A Jedi we need. A Jedi he is." Yoda responded resolutely.

"The Others won't let you interfere any more than they will let me." Daniel pointed out.

"A good man, but young you are. So much you know Daniel Jackson, and yet so little as well." Yoda replied sagely. "My ally is the Force, Daniel Jackson. One with the Force have I been for millions of years. One with the Force will I remain, whether mortal, or immortal. My choice it is. Take this choice away from me, the Others will not. Immortal, interfere I cannot. Mortal… Say nothing they will."

"So, instead of me sacrificing myself, you make that sacrifice instead?" If he had still been mortal, a knot of guilt would have formed in Daniel's stomach.

"Logical it is." Yoda replied. "Powerless you would be. The Force you would not know, or be able to use. Jedi I was for nine hundred years. One with the Force I have been for millions. My strength, my power, all that I am resides in the Force. Abandon me, the Force will not."

"I wish I had your faith." Daniel remarked.

"Easy faith is, when one knows the object of one's faith so well. Faith a person might have in the air he breathes. See it he does not, yet trust it for his life he does. So it is with the Force." Yoda replied.

Daniel nodded in concession to the ancient master's wisdom. "I'll remain here and keep an eye on things. Maybe I can quietly stall their progress."

"Bring him I will, when the time is right." Yoda agreed.

Daniel almost felt silly at the impulse, but the words just seemed appropriate in parting, "May the Force be with you, Master Jedi."

"And also with you, Daniel Jackson." Yoda returned with a serious solemnity, and then he was gone.

Chapter 1

Captain's Log: June 19th, 2159

 _The Enterprise has been ordered by Starfleet to investigate a derelict ship discovered by a cargo hauler on the edge of Klingon claimed space. The only details they've given me are the coordinates, and that the ship's deep in an asteroid belt around a red giant. The admiral tells me that there shouldn't be any issues with Kronos because we'll still be outside of their recognized borders, and, without any class M planets in the system, there's nothing of real value there to interest them. Trouble is, I'm not sure the Klingons recognize the same borders we do, and, as we've found out on more than one occasion, they don't like trespassers. Hopefully, we'll be in and out before anyone notices._

In his cabin and sitting at his work desk, Captain Archer sighed as he ended his log entry, and rubbed his temples in frustration. He didn't like this. No, he _really_ didn't like this. Classified orders for his eyes only, and even then only the barest description of what it was they were supposed to do. He might have even been breeching Starfleet security just entering the mission into the official record of the ship's logs.

At this point, he didn't care.

There were other ships, newer vessels even, that had been closer and could have checked out the space debris long before Enterprise could even reach that region of space. They had been in orbit around Andoria for several days on diplomatic duty, trying to further the unity of the coalition of planets he had helped to forge. But no, it had to be Enterprise and her crew. The admiral was very specific about that. He didn't want anyone else involved.

It was just a gut feeling, but it had the smell of Starfleet intelligence about it, and things usually went sideways for him and his crew whenever Starfleet intelligence became involved.

He tapped the button to call the bridge, "Archer to bridge."

"Bridge here, Captain." Came his weapons officer's response.

"Are all crew members returned from the planet?" He asked.

"Aye, sir. The last shuttle returned over an hour ago." Lieutenant Commander Reed responded.

Archer noted that, then asked, "Are any delegates left on board?"

"Hang on sir, let me check." Reed told him. A minute later he returned, "No, sir. We're clear of guests."

"Good." Archer responded. "Is Travis on duty yet?"

"Lieutenant Mayweather isn't due to report to the bridge for another two hours, sir; at oh-six-thirty." Reed responded.

"Fine. Have the helm set course for the coordinates I'm sending up to the bridge. Maximum warp." Archer said in a flat tone of voice.

"Aye, sir. New orders, sir?" Reed inquired.

Archer sighed again, "Yep." He responded. "Have yourself and the rest of the senior bridge crew assemble in the ready room in an hour for a mission briefing."

"Aye, sir." Came Reed's response. "And what about Lieutenant Mayweather?"

 _Travis_ is _a lieutenant now, isn't he? It's been over a year. Why do I still think of him as an ensign?_ Archer asked himself.

"Just you, me, T'pol, and Tucker this time, Malcolm. Archer out." He closed the call.

He looked down at himself. He hadn't even changed out of the gray shorts and tee shirt he wore to bed the night before. His head was still fuzzy from sleep as well.

Why did they have to send these kinds of orders at this time of the morning?

He needed coffee, and a quick shower before the meeting.

Travis found himself deep underground, in a bunker like those he had read about in his history lessons from the Eugenics War a hundred years ago. There was a dark, cold feeling to the place. He could sense some malevolent force emanating from the dusty and abandoned rooms all around him, but he couldn't place it exactly.

In his hand was a cylindrical tube that he somehow knew was a weapon. It felt familiar, and trustworthy, though he couldn't remember ever using one like it before.

Instinctively, he reached out with his senses to take in his surroundings. His heart began to pound as he picked up on two men down the corridor to his right. As the panic began to rise within him, he called to mind the words of a meditation he had been taught… When? He couldn't remember who taught him or when he had heard it.

 _There is no emotion, there is peace._ _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._ _There is no passion, there is serenity._ _There is no chaos, there is harmony._ _There is no death, there is…_  
A red light flashed off to his right and his ears picked up a familiar snap-hiss and hum of a very dangerous weapon. His mind and body were so attuned to the living energy around him that he reacted before it happened, and his own weapon was activated with the same snap-hiss as Travis somersaulted backwards and out of the reach of the red plasma blade.  
"You'll need to do better than that to stop me, Jedi." Came a harsh, mocking voice.  
"Jedi?" Travis asked in confusion.  
Then his eyes flew open to the darkness of his his gray colored officer's quarters. He sat upright in his bunk, his blue undergarments that he had slept in were soaked with sweat.  
"Man, what a dream." He said to himself as he rubbed his face in his dark skinned hands.  
He looked at his chronometer. "Oh five hundred hours. Time to get up anyway." He said to himself.  
It wasn't the first time he had that kind of dream. Sometimes he was in a temple being put through the most insane calisthenics course and doing things that just weren't humanly possible. Other times he was sneaking through the corridors of a huge alien ship, and then fighting some old guy with the same kind of red plasma sword he had just seen in this morning's dream. None of them really made any sense. They were like something out of some old science fiction movies he had seen a while back, though he couldn't really remember those either.  
He moved to the lavatory unit of his quarters to quickly wash up before heading to the mess hall for a quick breakfast before his duty shift on the bridge.  
 _Man, there sure are a lot of new faces,_ He thought to himself as he passed his blue uniformed crew mates through the corridors. He realized he didn't recognize more than half of those he saw, although all of them seemed to know who he was. _Makes sense, I suppose_ , he considered, _I am a bridge officer after all._ Still, it felt weird to him to see so many strangers among what had been a pretty tight knit family of crew mates.  
He had grown up running from planet to planet at warp two on his parents' cargo freighter, _Horizon,_ where his dad had been the captain, his mother the chief engineer (as well as a dozen other positions on board), and everyone else as close as kin. Life these past eight years on board the _Enterp_ _r_ _ise_ had become a lot like that. It had been a small town where everyone knew each other, and everyone had gone through hell and back with each other. It had forged bonds that almost went deeper than blood with his captain, and his fellow officers.  
He passed a crew member he did know, Ensign Bradley from engineering, and gave a wide smile and "Hey!" to him as he hurried along.  
Ensign Bradley smiled back and waved, "Hey, Lieutenant! Running late?"  
"Nah, I've got twenty minutes. Plenty of time!" He returned as he continued down the corridor in a hurry.  
 _Funny_ , Travis considered to himself as Bradley disappeared out of sight behind him, _it's that same look again._  
Travis had noticed "the look" almost a year ago. It was this look of respect, almost awe at times, that his crew mates gave him now. He usually saw it when he pulled off one of his nearly impossible piloting maneuvers. Sure, they tried to hide it, but he'd always catch it. He couldn't understand why or what the big deal was. After six years, they should have been used to his skills by now. "Most natural stick and rudder man I've ever known." That's what his dad had told Captain Archer to convince the captain to bring him on as _Enterprise's_ helmsman.  
The look began right after "the mission." The mission they had returned from, and he couldn't remember the details of to save his own life. The one mission he wished he did remember. There were so many feelings and emotions attached to it, but every time he tried to remember, he ran into a void in his mind as though it never happened.  
But something had happened, he knew. It had to have. Because none of his crew mates, not even Commander Tucker, would discuss it with him, but somehow it clearly involved him in a big way. Every time he'd try to get close, they'd change the subject. Once, he even tried to ask the captain directly.  
"I'm sorry, Travis. But Starfleet's ordered this so classified only the top brass are allowed access." He had told him.  
"But I was there, sir!" Had been his response. "What can't I know about my own involvement?"  
"Sorry, Travis. That's all I can tell you." Was the Captain's final word on it.  
Travis hadn't tried again with Captain Archer after that.  
Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Commander Reed weren't any more helpful.  
"Travis, I've already said all I'm gonna say." Commander Tucker told him in his distinctive southern drawl, both empathetic and exasperated at the same time, when he approached him off duty privately in his quarters. "Starfleet intelligence would have all of our heads on a silver platter if any of us so much as breathed a word about the mission to anyone, even each other. Now, I'm sorry, but I've got my job to do and so do you."  
"I'd keep clear of this, if I were you lieutenant." Reed had told him when Travis had cornered him as discreetly as he could. "When certain people from Starfleet intelligence get involved..." He had trailed off with a deep sigh. "Just stay clear of it, alright?"  
As Travis had left that last conversation with Reed about it, he would have sworn he caught him saying the words under his breath in his crisp British accent, "...might need a Jedi if they learned we even mentioned it."  
"Jedi." The word sounded so familiar, like it had been important to him at one time, though he couldn't remember where he had heard it, or even what it meant. After looking it up in the ship's database, he learned it had been a reference to an old science fiction series involving several movies, television episodes, books and other media from the late twentieth and early twenty first centuries collectively called _Star Wars_. What any of it could have to do with him, however, completely escaped him.  
Travis looked up at the ship's clock as he pulled a muffin and coffee from the selections in the mess hall. Ten minutes left to the start of his shift. _No time to sit and chat_ , he decided as he wolfed down his muffin and took his coffee with him back down the corridor towards the lift to the bridge.

The bridge crew looked tense as they drew nearer the coordinates of the derelict ship they had been ordered to investigate. Each of them were distinctly aware of the closeness of the borders of Klingon space; borders the Empire itself barely recognized.  
"Any other ships in the vicinity on sensors yet?" Archer asked out loud as they dropped out of warp to impulse speed.  
"No, sir. Although I'm reading what looks like a massive debris field ahead." The ship's tactical officer replied. "I recommend we polarize the hull. That should be enough to protect us from minor collisions."  
"Do it." Archer responded flatly as he kept his eyes on the viewscreen. He took turns standing, pacing the bridge, and sitting in his captain's chair as they progressed towards their goal. To be honest, he'd rather be anywhere else in the galaxy at this point, and not within spitting distance of an alien race that was known for it's "shoot first and forget the questions" policy on trespassing.  
 _Why did it have to be us? We were perfectly happy hosting the Andorians._ He thought to himself.  
The debris field grew in the view screen as they moved forward. On the screen, chunks of metal, plastic, and other man made debris of various sizes and shapes passed by them, though the debris was getting larger and more defined the further into the field they came. Soon, shapes of smaller fighter craft as well as sections of larger craft came into view.  
"Looks like our Klingon friends forgot to clean up their mess when they were done. Commander Tucker said from his engineering station on the bridge.  
Archer was about to agree until T'Pol moved over to Reed's console and conferred with him quietly. He noticed the look of surprise on Reed's face when she pointed something out to him, and he looked over the results again, apparently not able to challenge her argument.  
Finally T'Pol spoke up, "None of this debris belongs to any known class of vessel operated by the Empire." She pronounced. She then added, "Scans also indicate that none of it could have originated with any known Klingon manufacturing process." She then turned back to her screen.  
On a gut feeling, Archer asked the two of them, "Any idea how old this junkyard is?" On the view screen, he could now see the husks of small ships that looked strangely and disturbingly familiar.  
"'Graveyard' would be a more accurate term, sir." Reed responded. "I'm reading biological remains, lots of biological remains, all around and inside the ship debris."  
"How old, Malcolm?" Archer repeated his question, growing increasingly uncomfortable at the now very recognizable images of dead ships he was seeing. Ship designs similar to those he had only last encountered a year ago on a mission now so classified he wasn't even certain that the United Earth president knew anything about it.  
"Preliminary scans of the debris field indicate an approximate age of three point six million Earth years, Captain." T'Pol responded.  
As Archer gazed at the view screen, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, the image of a single, massive, triangular shaped vessel grew in the view screen directly ahead of them.  
 _Damn_. Archer thought to himself as he looked around at those crewmen still on the bridge. "Trip, Malcolm, Travis, Hoshi, and T'Pol stay put. Everyone else, clear the bridge. Now." He ordered. As the other three or four crewmen immediately left the bridge, he worried they had already seen too much for their own good, but there was nothing he could do about it except hope they weren't fans of classical science fiction cinema.  
 _Damn._ He thought to himself. They could have warned me what we were sent to find before we got here. _I could have kept those crewmen off the bridge._ Then he thought about all those other crewmen just staring out their view ports and realized there's no way he could keep any of them from seeing what he was seeing accidentally. _So much for top secret need-to-know clearance_ , he thought to himself.  
When the lift doors had shut, all eyes were on the triangle ghost ship in front of them, dead in space for a very, very long time. It had taken a severe amount of damage in the battle which had left the debris field, but the "T" shaped bridge which rose towards the base of the triangle was just as distinctive as ever, as were the massive, ship swallowing engine exhaust ports along the base.  
"I guess we know now why Starfleet intelligence wanted us specifically to investigate it." Reed finally said, breaking the silence.  
Archer had already come to the same conclusion from the wreckage of the sleek long nosed, one man fighters and their distinctive crossed "X-wing" attack configuration they had been flying through. He briefly glanced at Travis, wondering if he should have had him leave too, since he couldn't remember any of it. But then his gut told him to keep Travis right where he was.  
The last time they had encountered this class of ship, they had needed the special skills his helmsman had been trained in during that mission. Archer's gut told him they would again as he stared at the carcass of what looked to him like an Imperial Star Destroyer from millions of years ago, and a galaxy on the other side of the universe.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The man in the yellow trimmed blue Starfleet jumpsuit watched the men and women work with some satisfaction. The rank insignia on his uniform indicated "commander," and the name on the uniform said "Bryant". Both would only be true until the work on the new facility was done. After that, the uniform would be destroyed, and "Commander Bryant" would cease to exist.

He was known simply as "Wilson" by those who had regular "official" business with him. What name and rank within Starfleet he actually held was a total mystery, and those who attempted to find out hit restricted files and dossiers so classified that not even Earth's president was permitted to view them. He knew this for a fact because he had seen to the file restrictions personally.

The technicians working to make the underground bunker operational again had been ahead of his schedule in refurbishing and re-outfitting the archaic facility with modern technology more appropriate to his purposes. Each day they would use the transporter pad that had been installed on day one to beam themselves and the new equipment into the underground chambers and work from dawn to dusk before returning to their makeshift worker's camp in the forest around the mountain. Of course none of the technicians had any idea of what this facility would eventually be used for even though they represented some of the best engineers Starfleet had available.

They were so efficient, he thought, it really was a shame that none of them would live past the completion of Section Thirty-One's new operations base. It was brutal, but a necessary evil to preserve the hyper-clandestine nature of his section's existence.

He would arrange convenient transporter accidents for each of the twenty men and women on the last day. They would step on the transporter pad, dematerialize, and then simply never re-materialize. None of them would feel a thing. Their families would be notified by Starfleet of the tragedy and told of their great service to Earth's security. There would be an inquiry into the deaths, Starfleet intelligence would sweep it under the rug, and his section would quietly erase any further mention of it from Starfleet's database, removing the temptation for anyone to attempt oversight of things they really don't want to know about. Everyone would have a good cry over the good men and women lost, a period of mourning, and then everyone would get back to business as usual. Crisp, clean, and relatively painless for everyone.

He wasn't a particularly cruel man, after all. He was just being pragmatic. And, unfortunately, it required a heavy dose of pragmatism to balance out the idealists running Starfleet and and the nascent Coalition of Planets.

He had no issue with his government's desire to form strong alliances with friendly worlds. Hell, he thought it was a great idea. But since the discovery of the old Stargate Program's database here in this very underground cavern and the description of Earth's previous clandestine alliances with other worlds, the report from the crew of the _Enterprise_ about the galactic republic that had been achieved millions of years in the past and the very real difficulties it had undergone, and even just a basic understand of the history of Earth's own governments and their rises and falls… Well, let the idealists believe that their diplomacy and the natural good-heartedness of people regardless of their species will unite the Alpha Quadrant into one big "kumbaya". They could think that for as long as they wanted.

They didn't need to know about the disappearances of little-known pacifist Vulcan professors opposed to military alliances with anyone, or the blackmail of contrary Andorian senators to stay quiet. They didn't need to know about the thousand and one unsavory necessities which kept the wheels of the Coalition firmly on track. And his section didn't need their idealism getting in the way of practical realities. They couldn't have it both ways. Pure, idealistic democracy doesn't work and never did. The ancient Romans and Greeks understood that. The old United States government understood that. And those who were responsible for the creation of Section Thirty One under Starfleet's charter understood that as well.

"Commander Bryant" walked through the halls of the ancient underground base inspecting the new installation of plasma conduits and modern computer consoles. They had only appropriated the lowest two levels of the twenty seven level deep bunker. That was all they really needed in a base of operations. And the ruins of the top twenty five levels would serve as an effective deterrent for anyone adventurous enough to try exploring through the nooks and crannies of what was left of the old Air Force facility nearer the surface.

He then turned into what had been officially known over a hundred years previously as the "embarkation room". It was an irony that no one from that old program ever referred to it that way, preferring to call it simply and with much understatement, "the gate room." It was the centerpiece of the entire facility, and the whole _raison d'etre_ of its existence he mused as he gazed upon the huge metal ring which had been resurrected and raised in the center of it.

Thirty nine symbols were etched around the face of the ring, and seven metal chevrons were positioned around the diameter. The alien race of humanity that had originally operated it had called it a "chappa'ai," although those who had made this facility their life's work before the Eugenics Wars of the early to mid twenty first century had christened it "the Stargate". And, as he had learned through meticulous study of their records, there were hundreds, if not thousands of them scattered throughout the Milky Way alone, all of which were accessible through this one by simply dialing up the right combination of symbols.

Three technicians had been assigned to this physics defying device alone with the goal of simply making it work again after over a century of inactivity. The original dialing software had to be retrieved from the ancient, damaged hardware, and the physical connections to the Stargate had all been severed and destroyed by the damage to the cavern from the nuclear attack on the mountain a hundred years prior. They had been able to retrieve the original designs, but for some reason, for archaic technology, it was proving to be more difficult to replicate than they had originally believed. It seemed a certain Dr. Samantha Carter was farther ahead of her time than anyone believed. This facility wouldn't be fully operational until they were able to bring the Stargate online again. Until then, it was an exotic, over-sized, alien paperweight.

He left the gate room and turned right and up a decidedly low-tech flight of stairs to reach the previous base commander's office where he had set up his own private office. In here had been stored the other "alien archive" which bore much further study, especially after the _Enterprise's_ relatively recent experiences in the past.

He sat down in the black padded, comfortable metal frame chair that had replaced the original red leather ruin that had been discovered by the excavation team and began to go through the journals and diaries of the now famous film maker that had stumbled upon the more exotic pieces of the collection during a day trip to Glastonbury Abby in the British Isles.

Among the papers and books had been three objects covered in as yet undeciphered alien script. One was a four sided pyramid embedded with glowing red crystal. The other two were cubes covered in the same script, but embedded with glowing blue crystal. The film maker's notes referred to them as "holocrons". Wilson had gone to great lengths to discreetly retrieve them from the film maker's descendants several months ago after learning of them from the journals he had been able to recover from other sources. All of the man's private journals referred to them as the source material for the most famous of his cinematic art.

Except, try as he might, he couldn't seem to get the glowing paperweights to tell him anything of any importance. According to the man's journals, all he did was place his fingertips on the devices and they spoke to him in some way as he concentrated.

So far, the two blue ones, the ones that had been the film maker's primary sources had been completely silent to Section Thirty One's chief handler. The red one had responded to Wilson's interaction somewhat, but only enough to tell him it was the sum total of the knowledge passed down by a "Sith" master named Darth Tizan, and only those worthy of being his apprentice would be able to access the information contained therein. So far, Wilson hadn't figured out how to make himself worthy of the Sith master's tutelage. But, according to the notes, the ancient Sith Master's holocron hadn't responded well to George Lucas's touch at all.

In his time, the man had been considered a brilliant film maker, and something of a moderate philanthropist. From the research Wilson had done, George Lucas had pioneered the film making methods and technology which made the rest of the late twentieth and early twenty first films possible, adding realism, sound, and computer graphics technology which had been previously unheard of or underutilized. He typically encouraged other aspiring film makers, and turned a blind eye when they used the characters and plot lines from his films to explore their own talents and creativity. He could have demanded money from them under the legal code which protected an author's work at the time, although he never did. Those aspiring artists affectionately referred to him as "uncle George" in return. He was also an amateur, but avid student of mythology and religious beliefs. He was considered a good man by almost everyone who knew him.

Apparently, the red pyramid wasn't looking for a "good" man to reveal its secrets to. But as the blue cubes were completely silent to him, it was his only option.

Wilson was okay with that, he had decided. He had fought that battle a long time ago. It was better to be pragmatic than "good" in his profession. The question that arose, however, was how "not good" did the holocron require him to be?

He placed the palm of his right hand over the apex of the pyramid and began to concentrate, deciding to focus on the question at hand. Within a few minutes, words began to materialize within his mind:

 _Peace is a lie, there is only passion.  
Through passion, I gain strength.  
Through strength, I gain power.  
Through power, I gain victory.  
Through victory, my chains are broken.  
The Force shall free me._

And then the red pyramid was silent once more.

Wilson steepled his hands together and sat back in his chair, pensive as to what the holocron's answer meant.

The _Enterprise_ drew up along the bottom of the dead, millions-of-years-old warship, as it took closer readings and the bridge crew visually inspected the outer hull; carrying out their orders to investigate it. Massive "spotlights" were turned onto the surface of the vessel from _Enterprise's_ hull in order to get a better look at it. In the shadow of the ancient Star Destroyer class warship, the NX-01 looked and felt like a small shuttle at best instead of the most advanced and largest ship in Earth's fleet.

On the bridge, T'Pol and Malcolm poured over the data which the ship's sensors were feeding them. Near as the sensors could tell, it was the only large vessel in the debris field which was still mostly intact. If there had been an equally sized ship, it had been on the losing side in the contest.

Memories of the last time they had encountered one of these vessels in person flooded Captain Archer's mind. There had been some bright spots, to be sure, during that unexpected "mission", but then there had also been some dark ones as well. He remembered very clearly as to how dark the Jedi Master he had come to know had informed him it could have been. But, that was millions of years in the past.

His bigger concern wasn't what happened in the past at all. No, his bigger concern was what would happen to the members of his crew who weren't authorized to know anything about it and just happened to look out a port hole. If it had just been Starfleet Intelligence he had to contend with it wouldn't have been as big of a deal, but his gut told him now like it had been telling him over the past year that it was the "other section" of S.I. The one that had nearly cost him not only his ship, but the lives of everyone on board and the loyalty of one of his best officers. It was the memory of that other, shadow S.I. that was the source of the knot which had formed in his stomach.

"Captain, sensors are giving an anomalous reading of the derelict Star Destroyer." T'Pol informed him without raising her head from the computer display at her station.

There, someone had finally acknowledged what everyone was seeing on the display. Leave it to T'Pol to do it matter-of-factly without any emotion in her voice.

Archer looked back towards her, "What kind of 'anomalous reading'?"

"There is a large section of the vessel which appears to have breathable atmosphere and power to the gravity plating near, if memory serves correctly, the hanger bay portion of the ship." T'Pol responded.

"After three million years?" Archer asked incredulously, looking back at the forward view screen. "How is that even possible?"

"That's not the strangest reading we're getting, Captain." Malcolm added.

Archer turned back to face him, "It's not?" He asked.

"No, sir. If ship's sensors are working right, there's a single life form on board in the same area." He told him.

Archer's eyebrows rose and his first thought which he had almost asked was "a survivor?" But then he immediately dismissed the thought and said nothing. Not after eons of time, not if they were the same kind of humanoid people he and his crew had met before, he thought to himself.

Now what do we do?

"There was no mention of any of those kinds of readings in the original report, was there Cap?" Trip asked.

"No, Trip." Archer responded pensively considering his options. In the end, there was only one which he felt he could live with.

"Travis, see if we can't come up into the hanger bay and find a working docking hatch near the section with life support. If, by some chance, there's still someone here that could use our help, we'll check it out." He told his helmsman, hoping it wasn't the wrong decision.

"Aye, sir..." Travis acknowledged, trailing off with some hesitancy, a look of confusion on his face as he looked back and forth between the other bridge officers.

"Is there a problem lieutenant?" Archer asked, picking up on it.

"I'm, uh..." he felt awkward as he searched for a way to explain what should have been obvious, "not familiar with this class of vessel, sir. Exactly where is the hangar bay?"

Right. Travis's memory block. For the brief second he had taken to make his decision, Archer had forgotten about his helmsman's strange amnesia.

Malcolm came to the rescue. "I'm feeding the coordinates to the helm now, sir."

"Thanks Malcolm." Archer responded.

Travis expertly maneuvered the ship up into the expansive cavity in the belly of the triangular warship. The _Enterprise's_ external lights and spotlights on the artificial cavern revealed twisted decks and the remains of the small, light attack craft which hadn't become a part of the debris field outside. Through the view screen they could also discern several two and four legged armored vehicles which were strangely still intact.

"We could use the transporter and beam an away team in." Malcolm offered as he continued to search for what seemed like a needle in a haystack.

"We'll keep that option open, but there's bound to be a lot of debris, and we don't know if they have a receiving pad or not, if it's in the section with life support, or even if it would be functional." Archer responded. "I don't want to risk a team materializing in a bulkhead that's not supposed to be there if I don't have to."

"It would have been useful if the power that be would have let us keep the sensor data we collected." Malcolm added.

"Well, what do you think? Any docking structures we might be able to use?" Archer turned to ask T'Pol behind him. "If I remember right, the ships we were in before didn't seem to need them. The whole hangar bay had been enclosed with atmosphere protected by some kind of a force shield."

T'Pol continued to stare at her display. "According to sensors, there appears to be one docking ring that should provide an adequate seal sixty eight point three degrees to starboard." She reported. "It appears to be intact."

The metallic copper EVA suit seemed like overkill to Travis as he entered the lit, atmosphere filled corridor with Captain Archer and Commander Tucker through the docking ring. Truth was, he wasn't sure why the captain had brought him along, not that he was complaining. It was a chance to see something else he hadn't seen before, and he was always up for that.

Although as he looked down the austere white and gray corridor of the alien vessel, for some reason it felt familiar. A scene of him running down a similar corridor flashed through his mind. He was holding a blue plasma sword weapon as he charged at… at… Just like that the memory was gone. He put his hand to his helmet's face plate reflexively as he lowered his head. A mild headache began to form.

"You okay, Travis?" Captain Archer asked, concerned, but not seeming all that surprised.

"I think so, sir. Just… I don't know what it was. An image, or a memory or something." Travis responded as he straightened up. "But I don't know what it could have been from."

"What did it feel like to you?" Archer asked.

What did it feel like? The question seemed odd to Travis, but as he focused on what he felt, he was more certain of it. "It felt like a memory of being here before, or in a ship like it. But I don't know how that's possible."

"Let me know if it happens again." Archer told him.

"Aye, sir."

Archer wondered, not for the first time, if he really should have made the lieutenant a part of the away team. He hadn't been going to at first, instead preferring his communications officer Hoshi Sato, or his science officer in the more logical event that he would need their skills more than his helmsman. But just as he was going to call Hoshi, who would have preferred to stay on the bridge anyway, something stopped him. It was another gut feeling, and an almost audible but small voice which said, "no, take Travis."

He again wondered if he shouldn't have broken orders and filled his helmsman in on what happened on their hyperspace engine test mission the year prior; especially concerning everything which had happened to Travis himself. There were times when orders had to be broken. He had known that for a long time. Sometimes that was the only way anything got done. So why hadn't he just sat Travis down yet?

"Sir, the EVA suit confirms what sensor data told us. The atmosphere in here is breathable." Malcolm spoke up, drawing Archer out of his inner debate.

"Any idea yet as to how that's possible?" His captain asked him.

"No, sir, unless their atmosphere generators and life support systems were far more reliable than we even believed when we encountered them before." Malcolm responded. "But I do recommend using it and conserving our suits' oxygen for the time being."

"Agreed." Archer told him. The captain was the first to remove his helmet. The air was crisp and cold, but not uncomfortable.

"It's cold, but there's enough heat in here to keep us from freezing. The air smells fresh, not stale." Archer said. "Almost like it's being circulated. I'd guess someone or something has either been maintaining life support at low levels for a very long time, or someone has recently managed to get them working again for this area of the ship."

The other two removed their helmets and took their first breaths of the ancient warship's air.

"Why would someone bother activating the life support systems and gravity plating in a small area of a derelict ship like this?" Malcolm asked.

"Don't know. My guess is that we'll find out once we know what's causing the life form readings." Archer responded, then turning to Travis he asked, "Where do we go from here, Lieutenant?"

Travis looked at his hand held scanner. "The scanner's narrowed it down to a single, unknown bio signature, sir. It's coming from down the corridor about twenty meters and to the left."

"Lead the way." Archer said with a gesture to Travis to take the lead.

The corridor itself was dimly lit with only just enough of a bluish white glow from overhead lighting to see one's way by and no more. On the deck plating at their feet could be seen bits of twisted metal and cabling.

"Look at the size of those stress fractures." Malcolm pointed out as he gestured to large cracks which ran through the corridor walls. "How is this corridor maintaining atmosphere?"

Archer ran another scanner over the walls, looking at the results on the screen. His face came away with a puzzled expression.

"According to my scanner it shouldn't. That fracture runs all the way through to the hanger, which we know is decompressed. I'm not reading any energy or force shields in between. That doesn't necessarily mean there's not some technology the scanners can't pick up at work, though." Archer said. "We're still not the most advanced species out here." Under his breath where he thought Travis couldn't hear, he added, "And these people had almost fifty thousand years of technology on us."

They reached the point where the scanner said they should turn and found themselves at a door which, at one time, must have fully retracted into the top of the door frame to open but was now jammed a third of the way from the top. The three stepped through the door frame and into the room beyond.

Like the corridor before it, it was illuminated only with that same bluish white light. Archer switched on the light beam fixed to the back of his EVA suit's gauntleted hand and shone it around the small chamber which couldn't have been more than five meters square.

"It looks like some kind of a small storage unit." Malcolm said, surveying the small room.

There were small, metal boxes along the floor and up against the walls. The walls of the room were a white metal that contrasted with obsidian colored panels that lined them, two to a wall. The panels were about a meter wide and a little over two meters tall. Small green and red lights flashed lazily from displays over the panels, just under where the wall met the ceiling.

Travis held the scanner in front of him and followed it through the room right up to a darkened panel set in the wall opposite the door.

"The life form reading is coming from here." He told the other two as he studied the panel. It was covered with a thin coating of frost or condensation. Next to the panel was a small, black, rectangular metallic plate with alien symbols etched around it.

Where have I seen that language before? Travis asked himself. Out loud he said, "This writing looks familiar, but I can't recall from where."

The other two men were silent, but exchanged knowing glances behind him.

He placed his right hand over the plate, lightly brushing his finger tips over the symbols. Immediately the obsidian panel in the wall in front of him lit up with a bright white light to reveal a transparent window, about two meters by one meter.

"What is that?" Malcolm asked as the three looked through the newly illumined window at a vaguely humanoid shape a little over half a meter tall behind it. He wiped away some of the condensation which obscured the details of the illumined figure. The diminutive figure had a squat head with oversized, closed eyes. What looked like large, elf like ears protruded from the sides of the alien's head. It had a smattering of light brown and gray hair scatted over an otherwise bald, green skinned and wrinkled head. "I don't recall this species." He said.

Archer remained silent as some recognition of the creature, or at least an image of the creature in front of him came to his mind. Granted, that was an old science fiction movie, but then this whole vessel was straight out of that same science fiction movie.

"I think the better question is 'who'?" Travis said in response looking at his scanner. "According to these readings, whoever or whatever it might be is still alive." After staring a little longer at it. "He looks familiar somehow. Like I've seen him before in a dream or something."

"He?" Malcolm asked. "How do you know what gender it is, or even if it has one?"

"I don't know." Travis responded. "I just look at him, and I feel like I should know him somehow. Like we've got some sort of connection."

Archer considered this information and then asked, "Are there any readings coming from any of these other panels in the wall?"

"No, sir." Travis responded as he pointed his scanner towards the other panels. "Just this one."

"This is what we do," Archer reminded himself. He pulled out his communicator. "Archer to _Enterprise_."

His science officer's emotionless voice came back, " _Enterprise_ here, go ahead Captain."

"T'pol, we've located a single, humanoid life form still alive in some kind of a stasis or suspended animation chamber. Have Dr. Phlox suit up and meet us here as soon as he can. I don't want to do anything further with the unit until he checks it out and tells us we aren't going to accidentally kill whoever's in here." Archer told her.

"Aye, Captain." T'Pol responded.

"Thanks. Archer out." Her captain ended the transmission.

Archer put his communicator away and stared again at the tiny elfin figure in front of him. Looks like I'm going to have that conversation with Travis one way or the other, he thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _Captain's Log: June 26th, 2159_

 _After further investigation and sensor scans, Commanders Tucker and T'Pol have determined that the derelict warship was abandoned by its crew shortly after the battle which caused the debris field around it. Their best educated guess is that the extensive stress fractures and damage, most likely caused by combat, were and remain irreparable, and caused the ship to decompress slowly enough to give the surviving crew time to evacuate. The section of the ship which we encountered was apparently the last section of the ship still able to maintain its atmospheric compression, albeit barely._

 _The derelict ship bears an uncanny resemblance to one of the Imperial Star Destroyer class warships we encountered a year ago on a mission which has since been so highly classified by Starfleet Intelligence that all mention of it will likely be erased from this log upon return to Earth. Our sensors are telling us that the remains of the ship and debris field are three and a half million years old._

 _While investigating the derelict ship, we encountered a humanoid life form asleep in suspended animation in some kind of a stasis chamber. After Dr. Phlox gave the all clear, we have unsealed the chamber and brought the unconscious being on board and into sickbay where he remains unconscious, but stable as far as Phlox can tell. I can't help but notice that Phlox's new patient bears a striking resemblance to a character from a classical science fiction movie series called "Star Wars". Having previewed that series recently, if I remember right, it was a character who was supposed to have died from old age. From what I remember from that mission I mentioned, those films were based on historical situations and people from millions of years ago and a galaxy on the other side of the universe. This begs the question, how did this person end up in my sickbay? I and my senior officers finding the idea of power generators and technology, even as advanced as the derelict ship appears to be, keeping a survivor alive for millions of years to be pretty hard to believe as it is. However, we have found no evidence of anyone boarding the Star Destroyer before us since it was abandoned. So, for right now, as improbable as it may seem, we're going with the survivor explanation._

The hypospray against the wrinkled, light green skin hissed as the small dose of, as far as Phlox could tell, harmless stimulant entered the bloodstream of the tiny, obviously aged being on the examination table. One was never fully certain of the compatibility of medications with unknown xenophysiologies. But after studying the being's chemical and cellular structures, the Denobulan physician was reasonably certain it at least wouldn't harm him and should have the intended effect.

Captain Archer had been right, Phlox thought to himself, as he glanced at his captain standing opposite him on the other side of the exam table also waiting for the stimulant to do its work. He did bear a striking resemblance to the wise mentor character from the _Star Wars_ series of motion pictures which Phlox had been given the privilege to view some time ago, right down to the brown, burlap like monastic robes.

The tiny figure blinked his eyes open slowly, and just as slowly moved them around taking in his surroundings as far as he could without moving his head. Phlox used this small moment of orientation to take some vital readings with a scanner he held over his patient. The readings done, he placed the scanner on a table to the side and picked up a small, white and silver bar-like device and pressed the power button. He then fixed the device to the front of his doctor's coat.

"I see we're finally waking up. I understand you've had quite a long sleep." Phlox said, speaking close, but not into the device.

The being slowly nodded his head. "How… how long, asleep have I been?" He asked haltingly.

Of course, though Phlox heard it in English, Starfleet's official language of use, he knew that the being was actually asking in a language which should have been nowhere close. Strange that the universal translator had picked it up and translated it right away. Phlox was no expert on the U.T., but he thought that meant the language, or a variant of it must be in the U.T.'s database already.

"A very, very long time, my friend." Phlox said with a gentle smile. He didn't want to overwhelm him with how long they thought he had been asleep. "Do you have a name we can call you?" He asked.

The being appeared to think for a minute, as if trying to recall a distant memory. He then said, "Yoda, my name is. And yours?"

Both Archer's and Phlox's eyes went wide as he and the doctor glanced at each other in surprise. So, Phlox thought to himself, more than a movie after all, just like the rest.

"You can call me Dr. Phlox. I'm the resident physician on board the _Enterprise_." Phlox responded.

The small being took in this information and gave a satisfied expression. Yoda then turned his head to look at Phlox as if studying him. He then turned his head the other way and studied Captain Archer's features. "And yours?" He asked the captain.

"My name's Jonathan Archer. I'm the captain of the ship you're on." Archer told him. His tone of voice was a little softer than Phlox would have expected given the tension his captain had been displaying over the past week. Perhaps it had something to do with Yoda's aged and somewhat helpless appearance. "Do you feel like you can answer some questions for me?"

"Questions..." Yoda repeated. "Questions, yes. Questions I might answer." He said, trying to sit up a little.

"We found you in what looked like some kind of stasis chamber in a ship which looks like it was abandoned a very long time ago. Can you tell us how you got there?" Archer asked.

Yoda seemed to process this information pensively. Finally he answered shaking his head, "No. Know how I came to be there I do not."

"Can you tell us what is the last thing you do remember?" Dr. Phlox asked, thinking something simpler might be more in order.

"Speaking with someone I was. Deep underground. An old friend was he. Darkness there was, much danger we foresaw." Yoda responded. "A ship you found me on?" He then asked.

"Yes. An Imperial Star Destroyer if I remember the class type correctly. It was adrift in a debris field we think was caused by a battle." Archer told him. "Can you tell us anything about it?"

Yoda closed his eyes and appeared deep in thought. "Tell you anything I cannot. On the ship during the battle, I was not. Sorry, I am."

Lines of frustration began to crease Archer's face. "And you don't remember anything about how you got on that ship?"

"No." The aged petite being responded.

"Captain," Phlox then interceded taking the captain aside and hopefully out of earshot of their new "guest", "keep in mind that he may have been in suspended animation for over three million years. He may be lucky he remembers his own name, much less anything else."

Archer nodded, relenting. "Keep me posted on his progress." He said.

"Yes, captain." Phlox responded.

Archer nodded towards Yoda and said, "We'll talk later after you've recovered a but more. You're in good hands with Dr. Phlox here. He'll take good care of you."

Yoda nodded his aged head at him, but said nothing in response, instead looking intently at Captain Archer as if he was studying his face.

"Right." Archer said, and then left sickbay.

Phlox again faced his patient and asked with another friendly smile, "Well Yoda, it's been some time since you've eaten anything. How would you like to start with some nice warm, vegetarian Plomeek soup? From what I understand, our chef has become quite adept at making it for Commander T'Pol."

Yoda nodded in response, attempting a smile. "Good that sounds." He answered weakly.

Archer returned to the bridge with more questions than when he left it. His head was still ringing with those questions as he walked through the turbolift doors and on to the command deck of his vessel. It had been pointless after they returned to keep the regularly scheduled bridge crew off the bridge, so Archer had allowed them to return and resume their posts. Starfleet Intelligence be damned. He couldn't hide the fact they were in the belly of a massive alien ship forever from the entire crew.

"So, how is our special guest?" Malcolm asked.

Archer almost shot him a dirty look but caught himself and smiled. "Doing well, except he doesn't remember a thing about how he got here."

"So, not a survivor then?" His tactical officer asked again.

"Not according to him, anyways." Archer responded, not really wanting to go into more detail than that. He scratched the back of his head and plopping himself down in his captain's chair. "How are we doing on the scans?"

"Our scans of the vessel are nearly complete, but to be honest, it will take a team of technicians years to make sense of all of it in my opinion." Malcolm responded. "I don't think our scanners can pick up half of what's actually there."

"I don't doubt it." Was Archer's response as he cast his eyes on the forward view screen.

Commander "Trip" Tucker had been monitoring the scans as well from his engineering station on the bridge near Malcolm's station. "I know I'm gonna have a hard time sorting through it." He added. "This all looks a million years beyond me."

"We just need to take as many pictures as we can to make Starfleet happy, Trip." Archer told them. "I doubt they'd want us peeking too much at them anyway."

"There is one thing the scans picked up which I thought you'd want to have a look at." Malcolm told him.

"Oh?" Archer said, turning his chair around to face him.

"If these scans are correct, there's a certain piece of technology that's been installed on this vessel that wasn't standard equipment on the others we encountered, sir." Malcolm told him.

His interest piqued, Archer got up from his chair and moved over to Malcolm's station to see what his Lieutenant Commander had found. In front of him on the screen were details and blueprints of several devices which he didn't recognize. Then Malcolm moved his fingers over the display to focus on a single chamber deep within the vessel. In it, Archer began to recognize a familiar looking set of pads placed in the floor and ceiling.

"Does that look familiar, sir?" Malcolm asked.

"Yeah, it kind of does." Archer responded. "It looks an awful lot like a transporter pad to me. But you don't think it's the same one we left behind, do you?" He contemplated the possibility that this was the same Star Destroyer that they had encountered a year ago and had been forced to shoot their way out of.

"Not according to the scans we've taken. The materials are completely different, as is the configuration. It all corresponds to the same materials and technology as is found in the rest of the ship. Commander Tucker and I are fairly confident this is a native design and build. It didn't originate with us."

"So, they took the technology we left behind and used it." Archer concluded. "Just like Daniel said they would." He added, remembering the "ascended being" they had also encountered on that mission. Of course, Daniel Jackson was hard person to forget. Thinking back to all Daniel had told him, he asked, "Any idea how far removed their transporter was from our own technology?"

Trip came over to where the other two men were looking at the screen. "I've been trying to figure that out myself, Cap'n. Maybe try and get a bit of perspective on how far back in time we actually went."

"Any ideas, Trip?" Archer asked.

"Truth is, most of it still seems to be the same basic design, although from looking at the scans, I'd guess this one was capable of handling a lot more at once. It also looks like it was integrated more fully into this ship's systems. And there's more than one of them." Trip said, moving his own fingers around Malcolm's display to where it now showed no less than twelve such chambers within the broken vessel. "If you look here at these two," he said, bringing the display to focus on two of the chambers, "It looks like they were each designed to transport up to a hundred people at once. That's a massive landing party."

"Or an invasion force." Malcolm added.

"Well, this ship wasn't built for people to take vacations on." Trip agreed, gesturing to the broken armored vehicles and weapons of war that now littered what had been the derelict ship's main hanger.

"Agreed." Archer said. "So, what do you think, how long?"

"I'd guess maybe a couple hundred years of separation at most." Trip told him. "But it is just a guess. Most people aren't likely to stray that quickly from a design that's been proven to work."

"Two hundred years at most?" Archer asked, and then turned to face the view screen again as he did the rough math in his head. "They were ninety billion light years across the universe. How did they end up here only two hundred years later?"

"Maybe the same way we got there?" Malcolm offered.

"Maybe." Archer conceded, but something in his gut told him that wasn't right either. One thing was for certain, the more questions they tried to answer, the more questions kept creeping up.

A light went off on Malcolm's tactical display and the scans disappeared to reveal what the ship's tactical sensors were picking up. "Captain, we may have a problem."

"What now?" Archer asked.

"I'm picking up three Klingon battle cruisers entering the debris field." His tactical officer told him.

"Any indication they know we're here?" Archer asked, instinctively knowing what the answer would be.

"They're headed straight for us, sir." Malcolm replied. "If I was to make an educated guess I'd say they've picked up on our energy signature."

"Damn." Archer replied. "How long until they're in range?"

"Less than an hour. They have to navigate the debris field the same way we did." Malcolm responded.

"Okay, we've got a few minutes then. How far are we on those scans?" He asked.

"We've got about eighty percent or so of what the sensors can pick up." Trip responded.

"That's going to have to be enough. Release the docking clamps and get Travis back up here on the helm. Let's see if we can't clear out of here before they find anything of interest to them." Archer told them.

Yoda had just finished his vegetarian soup and had set the bowl and spoon aside. It wasn't bad, and was spiced just right, almost logically. It reminded him of one of the last times he had cooked up a stew for himself and his last padawan learner… when was it? He couldn't remember exactly, though he knew it had been a very long time ago.

Much that he had known had been lost. He knew it would be. A mortal mind couldn't hold the vast wealth of knowledge an ascended being assimilated through the Force. And he had been one with the Force for a very long time.

He had not lied to Captain Archer. He did not remember how he had gotten on board the Star Destroyer. That was part of his trade off. He had to remember why he was here, now, not how he came to be here. For everything else, the Force would be his guide and ally as it had always been.

He leaned back on his bed and sought to meditate, and commune with the Force, reaching out to the life around him…

Tension, he felt. Unease, and some fear coming from the captain and those on the bridge. Why? He searched deeper, stretched out his awareness to encompass the surrounding space. He sensed three more crews. Alien to him. He might have known of them once upon a time, but now they were alien. Their intentions were violent and hostile. They were hunting… this ship.

Yoda's eyes came open and he looked around the sickbay. The doctor was busy checking readouts from a computer screen.

Quietly, Yoda pulled back the blanket which covered his legs and slipped off the bed drawing on the Force to keep as quiet as possible. Keeping one eye on the doctor, he gestured with his small, three clawed hand and the screen which the doctor had been studying flickered and then changed, much to the doctor's consternation as he began to scrutinize it far more intently.

Satisfied, Yoda quietly slipped out through the sliding doors of the sickbay and into the hallway.

Doctor Phlox never heard a thing.

As stealthily as possible, _Enterprise_ dropped out of the ancient hanger and back into the debris field.

"Let's put as much distance as we can between us and them." Archer told his helmsman. "Head away from those battle cruisers lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." Travis responded, using the ship's thrusters to put the ship in a course directly away from their pursuers. Within minutes, however, collision indicators began to light up across his control panel.

"Sir, we appear to be heading into a heavier part of the debris field. I'm not sure I can navigate this safely and outrun them at the same time." The helmsman told his captain.

"Just do the best you can, Travis." Archer responded. His ship had withstood a ridiculous number of battles. But he knew it couldn't survive three Klingon battle cruisers that decided to "investigate." He checked Malcolm's tactical display again. They were still about thirty minutes behind them at cruising speed, but not if they had to run on thrusters the whole way through.

The field of debris thickened even more as Travis wove in and out of the space garbage desperately trying to keep from ramming an ancient bulkhead or drifting fighter craft. Their progress slowed to a crawl.

"Time to intercept?" Archer asked again.

"Fifteen minutes and closing, sir. We'll be in their weapons range in less than that." Malcolm responded.

"Polarize the hull plating." Archer ordered. "All hands, battle stations."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The three, raptor shaped predatory space vessels closed in on their prey. Unlike the small Earth vessel in their sites, they paid little heed to all but the largest of the wreckage as they plowed through the space garbage; the energy shields surrounding the battle cruisers allowing them to smash through the debris unimpeded. Their disruptors and photonic torpedoes cutting through what the shields could not stop.

Archer stood next to his captain's chair watching all this helpless as Malcolm gave him constant updates, wishing in vain that the new energy based shield upgrades for _Enterprise_ weren't scheduled for next month back in Earth's dry-dock. As it stood, Travis was doing his best, but unlike the Klingons, they couldn't take the chance of just bashing their way through everything (isn't that what Klingons always did?); not for another month, at least, if they survived today.

He felt a shudder run through the deck, one that felt all too familiar in his time as captain.

"Malcolm, Report!" He ordered.

"No damage to the hull sir. That was a piece of debris exploding behind us." Malcolm told him.

"Well it was pretty damned close!" Archer retorted.

"Aye, sir. Klingons are nearly within weapons range, sir." He said as professionally as he could maintain at the moment.

"Yeah, I gathered that." Archer said, a little cooler.

It wasn't Malcolm's fault. It wasn't Travis's fault either. Archer could see him concentrating as hard as he could, his eyes not moving from the helm's navigational sensors. He was already pulling off some maneuvers which Archer wouldn't have dared try as an experienced test pilot.

"T'Pol, time till we clear the debris field?" Archer asked.

"At this speed, thirty eight minutes and twenty four seconds." She responded from her station flatly.

Archer closed his eyes, running through every possible tactic in a debris or asteroid field he could think of. None of it would work. Even the ship's computer's couldn't plot a faster course through this. It was just too tightly packed together. He silently prayed to whatever benevolent deity might exist for a miracle.

"Some assistance I might be?" Came an aged, unassuming gravelly voice next to him.

Archer's eyes flew open and he looked in the direction of the voice but saw no one.

"What the…?" He exclaimed.

"Down here I am, Captain. In trouble your ship is. Of assistance I may be?" Came the voice again.

Archer's eyes shot towards the deck near his feet. There stood all two thirds of a meter of his doctor's new patient. A plethora of responses came to his mind, including calling ship's security, but he settled on the one which addressed the problem at hand, "How?" He asked.

"With your helmsman may I work, Captain?" Yoda asked with all gravity.

"Do it." Archer told him. "We'll discuss how you got up here later."

"Of course, Captain." Yoda replied cheerily in sharp contrast to the circumstances.

The little green elf like being calmly moved to stand next to Travis, who still had his eyes on his controls and sensors. He didn't move those eyes as he said in a tense, almost irritated voice, "I'm kind of busy right now. Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly."

Yoda studied Travis for less than a second, closing his eyes as he did so. Those over sized green eyes came open almost as quickly. "Only tell you so much ship's sensors and machines can. Deceive you your eyes can."

"Okay, so how does that help me pilot this ship any faster through this mess?" Travis responded sharply, again not taking his eyes off the control panel.

Yoda reached out a three fingered hand and placed it on the right side of Travis's uniform. It felt unusually calm and reassuring to the helmsman in spite of the circumstances. Travis felt a rush of peace flood through his entire being.

"Let go of them you must, young one." Yoda told him. "Your feelings you must stretch out and trust if any hope you will have."

"What?" Travis's mind began to protest, but the rush of peace flowing through him agreed with the strange little alien's words.

"Guide you I can, padawan, but trust me you must." Yoda insisted in his calm voice as yet another explosion, this one much closer, rocked the hull of the ship.

"I'll… I'll try." Travis finally conceded.

"No. No try or try not. Do or do not. There is no try." Yoda responded sharply.

"I..." Another part of him opened up at those words, and memories of feelings, good feelings came back to him. "I understand." He said as comprehension began to light up his face. He _did_ understand.

"Yes, young one." Yoda nodded knowingly.

"Malcolm?!" Archer yelled for information.

"Directly to the stern Captain! Hostile vessels are now within weapons range!" Malcolm responded.

"Arm all weapons! Prepare to return fire!" Archer called out.

"Your weapons, they will not be needed." Yoda told the captain calmly, his eyes were now closed in almost a meditative state.

"What? Travis?!" Archer then turned to his helmsman.

Archer couldn't see it, but Travis had also closed his eyes as he followed the strange teacher's instructions. He couldn't explain it, but it just felt… right as he let go and reached out. It was like a whole new world opened up to him, one that felt familiar. It felt like coming home after being absent for a long, long time.

Immediately the _Enterprise_ lurched forward faster as the thrusters and the impulse engines began to work together in a complicated series of starts and stops, rolls and spins, and relative to its pursuers went into a dive through the debris. The ship wove in and out of the debris as though it were performing a graceful dance coming as close as mere meters from chunks of dead vessels which could easily obliterate the ship upon impact.

"Forward view screen!" Archer ordered, and then almost regretted it as he watched his ship from the inside perform maneuvers which, though he couldn't feel the inertia, began to give him vertigo. It was a similar feeling to the constant loop de loop and corkscrew roller coaster ride he had been on once at an amusement park near San Francisco. It was only his pride and the attentions of Becky Swinson which had been riding on it then, not the lives of a hundred and fifty people under his command.

The captain's face began to turn slightly green as he found his way back into his captain's chair and watched as his ship performed maneuvers he was certain it was never designed to make. He couldn't make out what course his helmsman was following, and then he felt another jolt rock his ship from behind, though from a further distance away.

"Malcolm, report!" He managed to order.

"Sir, two Klingon ships just exploded. I think they fired on each other!" His tactical officer responded.

"What? How?" Archer asked.

"Near as I can tell," Malcolm's hands flew over his display trying to keep track of his own ship's ever changing position, "They were attempting to target us with torpedoes as we flew right in between them!" He said in disbelief.

"Their shields didn't protect them?" Archer asked, just as incredulously.

"According to my data, the last vessel's energy shields are severely depleted as it is, probably from all the debris they didn't try to avoid." Came the lieutenant commander's response.

"What about the third?" The captain asked again, feeling far more hope for their survival than he had just a few minutes before.

"It's flying in an erratic pattern. I would guess it's trying to re-establish a weapons lock. Lieutenant Mayweather must be giving their captain fits." Malcolm couldn't suppress a slight chuckle.

Then another tremor was felt through the hull, this one far more slight than the last. Malcolm didn't wait for the captain to ask. "The last ship collided with a large piece of debris and exploded, sir."

"Travis, get us out of here as quickly as you can. Set course for friendly space, maximum warp." Archer commanded.

The helmsman complied, but as though in a trance as the ship continued to twist and roll through the debris field, but making time as though it were moving through completely clear space. Within minutes, the captain could feel the familiar lurch as the _Enterprise_ jumped into warp.

Just after the ship entered warp, there came another familiar voice from the intercom. "Phlox to Captain Archer."

"Go ahead, doctor." Archer responded almost mechanically, his whole body exhausted from the adrenaline of the past half hour.

"You may want to notify security. I'm afraid my new patient has left sickbay without authorization." Phlox reported with grave seriousness.

In front of him, the aforementioned escapee was calmly sitting in the lotus position next to his helmsman's seat, eyes closed as though nothing in the world could touch him. Archer almost wanted to laugh, or cry, but instead responded as calmly as he could manage, "Yes, doctor. I'll keep that under advisement."

When Travis finally opened his eyes again, the _Enterprise_ was cruising through space at warp five point two. According to his instruments, the veteran vessel had been doing so without incident for the last fifteen minutes. The stranger thing was, it hadn't really surprised him. After all, he had been the one who had set their course, hadn't he?

It took him a few seconds to process what had happened, and his final verbal approximation as it all came to him was "whoa." He had been in control the entire time, but it also felt like he had been cooperating with someone or something else guiding his actions as well as obeying his instructions. It had been a strange but fantastic partnership he had been privy to, and he sensed… no, he _knew_ it hadn't been the first time.

"Indeed." Came the same aged voice, and Travis finally looked down towards the deck plating to see his diminutive "co-pilot" having opened his own eyes and risen from his seated position to stand next to him once again.

"What just happened?" He asked the small green alien in the tattered monk's robes. "What did you do to me?"

Yoda chuckled and said in a low voice. "Nothing to you did I do. Awakened to what was sleeping within, you were just now. A powerful ally is the Force; a great teacher and companion it can be."

"Helmsman, report." Came Travis's captain's voice, shaking him back to reality.

Travis quickly looked back at his instruments as though waking up out of a dream. "Yes, sir. We are cruising at warp five point two. Course is set for Tellarite controlled space. Estimated time of arrival, twelve hours, thirty three minutes present speed. Exit from borders of Klingon space in approximately thirty minutes."

"Captain Archer to Commander Tucker." Archer called out to the ship's intercom.

"Tucker here. Hey, Captain, how long are you going to burn my engines this hot for?" Came Trip's voice in an irritated southern accent.

"About another half an hour, Trip. Can we do that?" Archer asked.

"Uh, I'd rather not." Trip responded. "Can we back it off to four point five?"

"How about four point eight and we'll call it even." Archer replied.

"Yeah, we can manage that. Everything okay up there?" Commander Tucker asked.

"So far. I'll get back to you on that. Archer out." The Captain then turned his attention back to his helmsman.

"Are you okay, Travis?" He asked, the concern for his crewman in his voice genuine.

Travis turned his chair around to face his captain, "Yeah, I think so. It was… I'm not sure how to describe it, sir." He said, straining and failing to find words to put to his experience.

The captain then turned his attention to where their "guest" had been standing only to find the space empty. "Where…?" He asked and then stood up to look around for the small, old but not frail alien. He finally spotted him heading slowly but surely towards the turbolift.

"We need to talk." He said, addressing Yoda.

"Rest I need. Old I am. To your doctor I will return." He said, not turning around, sounding as old and frail as he appeared. "Appreciated a cane would be. Difficult walking this much is."

Archer didn't buy any of his "old man" routine but, given what Yoda had just done for them, he held his tongue and smiled politely. "Later then. I'll send someone to 'assist' you back to sickbay."

"Appreciated that is, Captain." Yoda replied sincerely as a young, strong looking male crewman wearing the blue and red lined uniform of the ship's security officers came to stand next to him. The appearance was almost comical as the two meter security officer stood next to the diminutive figure.

"Lean on you, I may?" He asked the soldier humbly.

The soldier, slightly uncomfortably looked back towards the captain, who smirked and nodded his go ahead.

"Yes, sir. After you." The security officer then replied.

Yoda then walked slowly and carefully into the turbolift door and it swished open with the security officer trailing behind. The last thing Archer saw before the lift door closed was the ancient alien standing next to his crewman, who was looking down at him with incredulity written all over his face.

"Are you certain one security officer will be enough, captain?" Malcolm asked.

Archer thought about it for a second before he answered, "Something tells me ten wouldn't be enough if he wanted to cause trouble, Malcolm. No, I think he'll do exactly what he said for now."

"For now." Malcolm repeated his captain's last words with some unease.

Turning back to Travis, Archer said, "Travis, back it off to warp four point eight. Maintain course towards and Andoria, and then it's time I think we had a talk," he then added after a second's hesitation, "in private."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Captain, according to all the scans sickbay's equipment is capable of making, his physical condition approximates that of a healthy human male in his mid to late nineties with all of the expected degeneration from age involved. Without knowing more about his species' physiology, I can't give you an exact age. But I can tell you that his apparent physical frailty is no facade. And with Commander Tucker's assistance, I have fashioned a cane at his request to assist his mobility. Frankly, by all natural physical standards, I can't see how he was able to escape sickbay without my notice, much less make it to the turbolift and up to the bridge. When I discovered him missing I was more concerned for his well-being than that of the ship's." Doctor Phlox gave his report.

Archer had assembled his senior staff in the _Enterprise's_ briefing room, which had originally been extra storage space near the bridge until the last refit, to discuss their new guest, and what those on the bridge had witnessed. They all sat in metallic chairs around a functional metal table.

"According to the movie he was supposed to be close to nine hundred years old when he died, wasn't he?" Trip asked, bringing up another difficulty they were trying to wrap their minds around.

"As you know, it is possible, though unusual, for a Vulcan to live near the age of three hundred Earth years." T'Pol added. "Simply because humans are short lived does not make it impossible for another species to live far longer. Furthermore, one cannot judge the apparent physical abilities of one species by the abilities of another."

"Yeah," Trip said, not trying to argue her point, "but what about the part where he was supposed to have died? If I remember right, didn't that Jedi Master we had on board, uh, Ben Skywalker I think it was; didn't he say that those movies were pretty damn accurate to his family's history? How the hell'd the director screw up a detail that big and get everything else right?"

"That does seem improbable, if not impossible." T'Pol agreed.

Travis remained silent, still trying to process all that had happened. The captain had just had "the Talk" with him less than an hour before. It was "the Talk" he been wanting his captain to have with him for a while, and now, he didn't know what to think. Like his encounter with Yoda, it just felt right, and it explained a lot. But it flew in the face of everything he had accepted about himself and who he was. Heck, it flew in the face of everything he had accepted about the barriers between fantasy and reality.

"Where is our guest now?" Archer asked, sitting at the head of the conference table.

"Resting comfortably in sickbay, or at least that's what he appeared to be doing when I left. Crewman Phillips was standing guard inside sickbay at the time. I gave Yoda what should have been a sedative to help him sleep, so hopefully he'll still be doing that when I return." Phlox responded.

"I will say, if the display this afternoon was any indication, if he had wanted to harm us, he could have done it at any time before now, and I'm not sure we could have done anything to stop him." Malcolm said, his unease evident as he weighed in on the discussion.

"I don't get the sense from him that he intends any harm to us." Archer replied. "But I agree with your assessment, Malcolm, and the way he was portrayed in the films bears that out."

Travis continued to listen to the others, but he was distracted. His own feelings felt like they were running amok. How could he have just _forgotten_ all of it? He still didn't really remember anything of the frankly unbelievable things the captain told him he had done, although a lot of pieces began to fall into place for him. He understood now why they had all been tight lipped about it, and while he didn't blame his crew mates who had become like family to him, it had still hurt a little when he learned what they had been keeping from him.

After he had opened his eyes, and turned to look at his captain, Travis had seen "the look" etched into all of their faces again. Except this time it was like it had exploded a thousand times over. Even T'Pol, with all of her cool Vulcan professionalism couldn't hide the look of total disbelief on her face, even a little _awe_. What was worse was the look coming from crewman Phillips who was still new on board. For a trained security officer, he looked, well, _scared_ of him. Travis didn't want anyone to be scared of him.

There was one question which no one had yet asked about Yoda, and yet it seemed to be the one question which, for many reasons, kept being asked in his head; namely, _why was he here now?_ He must have looked deep in thought because the next minute he heard his captain ask, "What about you, Travis? Any thoughts on your recent 'co-pilot'?"

Travis looked up. His captain had tried to ask the question in a joking manner, but he now knew that his opinion, heck, his very feelings and instincts, would be given great weight by Captain Archer. The helmsman carefully tried to weigh what his own gut was telling him and how to express it in words.

"I guess the big question which keeps coming to my mind is 'why is he here?'" He finally answered.

"What do you mean? Are you saying our finding him in the derelict ship was intentional on his part?" Doctor Phlox asked.

"Well, I keep going over it in my mind, and it just doesn't add up that this was all an accident or a random coincidence. It's like we were meant to find him there. We were meant to thaw him out. And even the situation with the Klingons seemed like it was almost… I don't know." Travis tried to sort out what was coming to his mind.

"You're not saying the Klingon attack was staged are you?" Archer asked.

"No, that's just it. I can't see how it could have been, but it feels like there's some kind of hand guiding all of this. And then there's what I experienced when he 'guided' me in piloting the ship through the debris field. It was like I was connected to something bigger than myself that was working with me." He told them.

The others in the room, even T'Pol took on serious expression at this last thing he said, and Travis could feel the concern emanating from them.

"It just feels like he's here for a reason, and we need to find out what that reason is." Travis continued. "The other thing is that I think that reason has to do with me. At least that's what it _felt_ like when he was working with me at the helm. He called me a 'padawan,' whatever that means."

"If memory serves, a 'padawan' is someone who has been formally apprenticed to a Jedi Master to continue their training until such time as they complete their trials and are pronounced a Jedi Knight. Master Skywalker's apprentice Silva was called a padawan, and Lieutenant Mayweather was addressed as a padawan during his training in the temple on Coruscant." T'Pol explained.

Archer digested this information carefully as T'Pol continued. Never discount a Vulcan's memory, he reminded himself. She could probably recall what she had for breakfast three weeks and ten years ago to the day.

"I took the liberty of doing more research in the ship's cultural database from Earth's early twenty first century. According to the films and media which were our original sources of information, Yoda was considered _the_ Jedi Grand Master. He was personally responsible for training nearly every Jedi Knight and Master for eight hundred years at various stages of their training as well as being the de facto head of the Jedi Religious Order. He was also the last Jedi Master to train the main protagonist in the series, Luke Skywalker who was responsible for restoring the Jedi Order after its near obliteration."

"That was Master Skywalker's father, wasn't it?" Archer asked.

"Yes." T'Pol continued. "Where Grand Master Yoda is concerned, Commander Tucker was correct. He was supposed to have died at the age of nine hundred years old and then to have become one with the Force, continuing to guide Luke Skywalker at times long after his death from beyond the grave."

"One with the Force?" Archer asked, trying to recall all of his conversations concerning the Force with the Jedi Master he had come to know called Ben Skywalker. His mind was drawing a blank on the concept. "What does that mean, 'one with the Force'?"

T'Pol answered as though she had been prepared for the question. Of course she had, Archer thought to himself. It was only logical that the question would be asked.

"There is a great deal of media involved with the 'Star Wars' series. I did not have the time required to research all of it. However, from what Master Skywalker told us before, the Force is supposed to be an energy field created by all living things. If the media in the database are accurate to the philosophies of this Yoda's time period and history, then there were several philosophical schools among the Jedi regarding how the 'Force' was viewed. In one philosophy, the Force is seen as almost a kind of deity guiding one's destiny. In another, it was seen as something depending on one's feelings and instincts in order to act. Most Jedi appeared to have a blend of views based on their own individual experiences. Where the death of a Jedi was concerned, it had been believed that once a living creature, any living creature had died, the 'Living Force' within it returned to be absorbed and unified with the Cosmic Force in a kind of afterlife without any differentiation between individuals. It had been a Master Qui Gon Jinn who had first encountered beings who were able to train him to retain his identity and individuality after death. Later such beings were known as 'Force Ghosts'. Grand Jedi Master Yoda was the next Jedi Master to seek training in this ability at the urgency of Master Qui Gon Jinn after the death of the latter. Grand Master Yoda also apparently passed on the knowledge to a Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi. But there is no record of any Force Ghost being able or even desiring to return from this afterlife." T'Pol finished her explanation.

At the mention of "Force Ghosts" Archer became more pensive as the memory of another "unique" individual he encountered in that galaxy far away came to his mind. It was an encounter about which he hadn't gone into detail with too many people.

"So, you're saying the person who is resting in sickbay is actually one of these 'ghosts'?" Archer finally asked.

"I sincerely doubt that captain. I suppose it's possible for my equipment to be deceived, but all of my equipment and training are telling me that this Yoda is a flesh and blood being just like the rest of us. Sickbay's lavatory would have something to say about it as well." Doctor Phlox weighed in.

"There is also no record of any Force Ghost being able to either manifest in this way in the physical world, or be seen by anyone else but a Jedi or someone with a Jedi's training." T'Pol confirmed for him.

"So, what then?" Trip asked. "We just happened to run across an alien that just happens to look, act, sound like, and be able to do the exact same things that this Jedi Grand Master could do? We all saw what he did with Travis and those Klingon ships."

Travis remained silent. His feelings told him that somehow the little green alien was Grand Master Yoda himself. He didn't know how. Then something came to him, something someone told him… When? He didn't remember, and then he was surprised when he found himself saying the words out loud, "You never know when the Force will prompt you to take action, or what action you will be forced to take until it is called for."

"What was that, Travis?" Trip asked.

"Something someone once told me. I don't remember when or who, but I can make a guess. He said that you never know when the Force would prompt you to act, or what action you would be forced to take until it was called for." He told him.

"That sounds like something Jedi Master Skywalker would have said." Archer said as he began to loosen up the year long restriction which had been imposed on his discussing that time openly. He finally allowed his own conversations with the extraordinary man and his apprentice to flow back into his own mind.

"I don't think it was him, but yeah. I know there's no record of it, but maybe somehow the Force prompted Grand Master Yoda to find a way to rejoin the living because there was no other way. You know, 'desperate times call for desperate measures', that kind of thing." The lieutenant tried to reason it out.

"If that's the same Yoda in sickbay as the one in their history, he's got to have been one of these Force Ghosts for over three million years. What would have made him so desperate as to find a way to come back from the dead and go looking for you?" Trip asked. "There's got to be more to it than just him thinking you need to brush up on your Jedi skills, Travis."

"Yeah." Travis answered gravely, more concern settling over his face.

Archer spoke up again. He had a hunch he needed his science officer to explore. "T'Pol, I want you to do more research into Earth's cultural database. I want you to find every reference you can, no matter how obscure, to anything resembling these Force Ghosts, even if they're not called that. Something tells me George Lucas wasn't the only one to tell stories about them."

Daniel smirked at the technician's colorfully worded frustration as the tenth EPS conduit he attempted to connect to the stargate fried when he tested it. He felt for the man, he really did. But then the ascended being reminded himself that once the device was brought online, the technician would be having a transporter "accident" arranged for him. And not only him, but everyone else working on restoring the base.

Daniel wasn't about to let that happen. He counted himself fortunate that the Others appeared to be turning a blind eye to the minor but significant technical glitches he was responsible for. He hadn't made himself known, or interfered in any way anyone could interpret as "divine intervention" per se, so maybe they didn't think he was breaking the rules; at least, not too much.

None of these people, good people most of them, knew anything about what the plans for this facility were. They were just doing their jobs and following orders, much like the Air Force personnel he had come to know so well during his time working and sometimes living in this facility.

Several floors above him was the hospital room in which he had first died and was reborn as an ascended being with the help of his mentor, Oma Desala. The gate room itself where he now found himself had been a part of his daily routine. He had spent so much time here that every detail of it had been burned into his memory before he ascended the last time. A memory of running training drills and tests in this underground base flashed through his mind as teams of young Air Force Academy graduates were convinced that the fate of the world rested on their shoulders and he was an evil alien bent on world domination. The looks on their faces when they discovered they were being punked and tested by the SGC's senior staff was always priceless.

Good times.

Good memories which were now being threatened by the shadow of a darkness so ancient it predated the existence of the current human race on Earth. Of course, that scenario wasn't new to him either. He just couldn't do anything about it directly like he once could. Not without severe consequences to himself, and possibly everyone else in the process.

From what he could tell, Yoda's mission was going well, even if Yoda himself was not doing well. He had chosen to return to mortality at almost the same stage of life he had left it. The equivalent of a frail old man on death's doorstep. Though Daniel would never have described the ancient Jedi Master as "frail" to anyone, he knew he didn't have much time left. He could also surmise as to why, even though Yoda could have returned a younger and healthier "man" in his prime. It was part of the trade off of his "interference" in mortal affairs. Would he be able to ascend again? Daniel was pretty sure of it. Would the Others allow it? That he wasn't so sure of, and the ascended being wished there was some way he could be.

When he became mortal, the Jedi Master's mind was opened to Daniel, and what a mind it was. Almost a thousand years of experiences from an extraordinary life lived which were even more incredible than George Lucas ever knew. And the wisdom he had acquired before he died put even the understanding many ascended beings had to shame. Daniel hoped the Others might learn from it. But he remembered very little of his time as an ascended being. Choosing to retain only the simplest information as to why he was there and who he needed to guide.

"Worry for me not, Daniel Jackson. One with the Force was I before my death. One with the Force was I after. No change for me there is. No change for me there will be this time either."

Daniel read Yoda's thoughts loud and clear as he knew the Jedi Master was awake and meditating in the Force in the _Enterprise's_ sickbay. It shouldn't have surprised him that the little green ancient could monitor his thoughts through the Force as Daniel was checking up on him, but it did.

And Daniel smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Captain's Log: June 30th, 2159

 _We have now had our unusual guest on board for the better part of three or four days. Given that I'm not sure we could stop him anyways, I've permitted him freedom of movement, within reason, around the ship with an escort. Dr. Phlox has expressed concerns about the frailty which comes from his extreme age, but tells me that he is otherwise in perfect health._

 _As difficult as it is to believe, and as many unanswered questions as there are about it, the other senior staff and I now feel confident this is the same Yoda described by the 'Star Wars' series of films, books, and other media in the same way that the universe and people within it that we encountered a year ago matched the people and society in that same series. He still recalls nothing about how he ended up on a derelict Star Destroyer for three and a half million years, but the other events of his life recorded in that media he has been able to recall in detail when asked, as well as demonstrate all the extraordinary abilities which that media describes him as being capable of. My own interactions with him have been friendly, and the other crewmen have reported the same as well as descriptions like wise, kind, compassionate, empathetic, funny, and nice. Several crew members appear to have become quite fond of him._

 _For these past three days, his escort of choice has been our helmsman Lieutenant Mayweather, who has been reporting back to me with the details of their conversation after every walk Yoda takes around the ship. So far, he has only requested to see the mess hall and the ship's gymnasium. He appears to have no interest in the engine room, the bridge, or any other area of the ship I would consider sensitive for that matter._

 _Under the circumstances of the sensitive nature of our mission, with the exception of notifying Starfleet of our current heading, I have had little choice but to mostly maintain radio silence and set course for Earth. I expect to be in Earth orbit in about a week and a half or so._

 _I know S.I. wanted me to report on anything we found immediately, but something is telling me to hold off on it. I don't like disobeying orders, but my instincts are telling me something isn't right, and before I reveal the existence of our guest, or the details of our findings, I want to make sure they and he don't go into the wrong hands._

The ten kilogram weight in the gymnasium hovered precariously about a meter off the floor as Travis meditated on one hand and upside down, his eyes closed. Next to him, Yoda held his own eyes closed and Travis occasionally heard him mutter, "good, good. Remembering well your training you are."

He had just come off duty and had gone to the mess hall for supper when he found Yoda there. The sage Jedi Master appeared to be calmly watching the stars race by them in streaks through the mess hall's windows. Somehow that "chance" encounter became another training session in the gymnasium with the relentless Jedi. It was the third in as many days, and Travis couldn't seem to catch a break, but Captain Archer wanted him to keep an eye on Yoda. So, here he was again.

It wasn't that he really minded the little guy. After his experience in the debris field, and the revelation from Captain Archer, he was finally able to put the piece back together, but the picture was still looking a little fuzzy, and Travis found that he wanted to remember. Yoda was really his only way to do that.

So far, it was a lot like finding muscle memory again. Everything Yoda was asking him to do felt like something that he had already done and came far more easily than he thought it should have.

He touched the Force and felt it flow through him again. As Yoda guided him through these sessions it became easier and easier to open his awareness up to encompass a wider and wider area around him and he was able to sense the Force and what it could tell him about more of the world than he had thought possible than just a few days before.

"Now, the one twice as heavy." Yoda instructed him.

Travis reached out to feel for the twenty kilo weight. There it was on the rack, the Force told him. He reached out with what he wanted and could feel the energy of the Force responding and the weight slipped off of its rack and hovered next to the other one. It floated there for some time as Travis kept his focus on being aware of the currents of the Force around him.

"Doing some weight lifting, Travis?" Came a familiar southern drawl.

The two weights hit the floor with a crash as Travis' eyes came open and he fell, his body hitting the floor with a thud. "Ow! Man!"

"Ow. Uh… Sorry, Travis. Didn't mean to break your concentration or… or whatever that was." Commander Tucker told him apologetically but with a smile. He was standing a couple of meters from where Travis fell, dressed in his own work-out clothes.

Yoda's eyes calmly came open and viewed the two men, the one standing and the one sitting on the matted floor rubbing his arm.

"What happened?" He asked Travis.

"I got distracted." Travis responded, shooting Trip a dirty look.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you supposed to have been aware of my being here?" Trip asked.

Yoda nodded, agreeing with the chief engineer. "Agree with him I do. Again my question, hmmm?"

"I thought the gym was empty." Travis admitted. "I wasn't expecting anyone else." As he really thought about it, he then added, "I mean I was hoping no one else would come in."

"Paying attention, you were not." Yoda chided him. "Listen to the Force you must, not your own desires."

"What's wrong, Travis? Don't want an audience? Personally, I'm kind of interested to see what you boys are up to in here. I can't say I'm disappointed." Trip told him in a cheerful kind of way as he leaned over to give Travis a hand up.

"I'm not really all that comfortable with that, to be honest. I really don't want the attention." Travis told him. "Besides, I still don't really remember the details of my previous training. It's all just feelings. Like I have all these abilities, but I don't really know what they are or how to use them. It's all been instinct."

"Yeah, what about that?" Trip asked, turning his head to look down at Yoda. "Shouldn't his amnesia about the whole thing be starting to clear up or something?"

Yoda leaned on his cane and looked down at his feet. "Blocked his memory is. Unlock it, I cannot." He told them.

"But, if you can't restore my memory, than who can?" Travis asked him.

"Find an answer to this only you can, young padawan." Yoda responded. "And find it you must if you are to prevent disaster." His voice took on a gravity he had rarely displayed since coming on board.

"What kind of a disaster?" Travis asked, sensing that he was finally coming close as to why Yoda was here.

Yoda was silent for some time, and then looked up at him, studying the helmsman and then turning his attentions to the chief engineer. "Strong with the Force are you, Commander Tucker."

Trip seemed a little off balance from that but recovered and said, "Thanks, I think. Dr. Phlox told me I had near Jedi levels of those little microbes in my cells when he scanned me."

Yoda took this information, seeming unsurprised. "Yet trained as a Jedi, you were not?" He asked.

"No. I didn't need to be. And the other Jedi Master didn't think I was high enough to be concerned with it." Trip responded.

"And yet Lieutenant Mayweather was chosen, hmmm? Why?" Yoda persisted.

"We needed someone on board who knew how to use the Force in order to get home." Trip told him, wondering where he was going with this.

"Needed a Jedi was then." Yoda said. "Force sensitive have been many, but ignorant. Continues the Force does, and the galaxy. No Jedi. No Sith. Just the Force. Not needed, the Jedi have been for a long, long time. Better it is. A great ally is the Force, but a great enemy it can be as well if abused."

"Now, you're talking about the Sith, right?" Trip asked. "The ones that used the dark side."

Yoda nodded.

Travis searched his own feelings on what Yoda was telling them. It didn't make sense unless… "You're afraid that another Sith lord is going to rise, aren't you? Someone today's learned how to use the dark side. And if there's a Sith rising..." Comprehension broke over Travis' awareness.

"The Force you must trust. Tell you everything you need to know when right the time is." Yoda said, neither confirming nor denying Travis' assertion.

Lieutenant Hoshi Sato's face took on a puzzled look, and then it scrunched up into full confusion as she adjusted the controls of her communications panel. That can't be right, she thought to herself, as she replayed the signal she had just received. Nevertheless, there it was again, plain as day, repeating over and over again. She had to report it.

"Captain, I'm receiving a distress call. It's in English." She told Archer from her station.

He had been sittting in his chair leaning forward, chin on his folded hands, elbows on his knees watching the forward view screen. Upon the news, he leaned back and turned the chair towards his communications officer.

"Oh?" He asked, concerned. "Who's it from?"

"I'm not sure. I've never heard of any of this." She responded.

"Put it on." He ordered.

The bridge went quiet as the mildly static laced transmission filled the air around them. "This is an S.O.S. to any Stargate Command vessels in the area. D.H.D. on this planet is dead. Surface of this world is desert and inhospitable. We are requesting immediate evacuation. I repeat, this is an S.O.S. to any Stargate Command vessels in the area. ..."

"That's it sir, it just keeps repeating on a loop." Hoshi told him.

Archer scrunched up his face as he tried to make sense of it himself. He silently repeated the word "stargate" to himself. Why did it sound so familiar? He wondered. Out loud he asked, "Can we locate the source of the transmission?"

"The signal source is about half a light year off to port. It's originating from the second planet of a binary star system. The signal is weak, but clear." She reported.

"Half a light year? We can make it there in a few hours." Archer said.

"And what of our mission?" T'Pol reminded him. "We need to report to Starfleet Command."

"It's only a few hours out of the way. It won't take long to check it out. At worst, it'll add an extra day if there's no one left to respond to. But someone in distress, especially if they're from Earth; that's part of our standing orders, too." Archer told her.

"Aye, sir." She responded.

"What is Stargate Command?" Hoshi asked. "I've never heard of it."

Archer continued to think, "'Stargate' sounds familiar, but I can't place it either. If we can, we'll ask them what they meant when we get there."

Three hours later, the _Enterprise_ went into orbit around a world that, from orbit, reminded Archer of T'Pol's home world of Vulcan. It was barely habitable, and according to the ship's sensors there were parts of it around the equator that easily reached seventy degrees centigrade during the daytime. Fortunately the distress signal wasn't coming from near there, but from somewhere in the northern hemisphere where it was a relatively cool forty five degrees during what he was told was this world's winter. A landing party would have to be pretty desperate to go down there unless they didn't have a choice.

There was no ship in orbit, and no wreckage of one either in orbit or on the planet as far as they could tell. However the senders of the message had gotten here, their ride was long gone.

"I'm reading four bio signs coming from the northern hemisphere near the polar cap, Captain." T'Pol reported from her science station. "All human."

"No one else? No indigenous life forms?" He asked her, though judging from what he was seeing, not entirely surprised.

"No, sir. There appear to be large tracts of structures arranged in patterns like cities and settlements, but I'm not reading any other life forms. Not even microbial life. This world is sterile."

What would cause that? He wondered. He knew of several possible answers, none of them pleasing to think about.

"Can we get a lock on them with a transporter, beam them directly to the ship?" He asked hopefully. He didn't want to put any of his own crew into harm's way if he didn't want to.

"I believe so." T'Pol confirmed.

"Archer to Commander Tucker." The Captain then called out to the internal communications.

"Tucker here. What'cha need, Cap'n?" Trip responded.

"I need you to get down to the transporter. There are human survivors down on the surface of the planet that need to be evacuated now." Archer told him.

"Will do." Trip responded. "Tucker out."

"Archer to Phlox." He called out.

"Phlox here." Came his ship's doctor's voice.

"Get down to the transporter room, doctor. We may be bringing people on board with severe heat injuries." Archer told him.

"Understood. I'm on my way." Phlox told him.

"I'll be down at the transporter receiving our new guests. T'Pol, you have the bridge." Archer told her.

"Aye, sir." T'Pol responded.

The transporter surged with blue light and four humans in black tactical suits materialized on the transporter pad as Archer, Commander Tucker, Dr. Phlox, and two armed MACOs watched. All four were seated and drenched in sweat as Phlox went to work immediately analyzing their vital signs with his medical scanner.

"Thanks." One of them said with obvious exhaustion. "We were getting pretty well cooked down there."

The speaker was a man in his mid thirties with short dark brown hair and light cocoa skin. He had about a day's worth of beard stubble, but was otherwise clean shaven. He might have come from somewhere in the Caribbean or South America, Archer thought to himself, except that he spoke English with an accent that suggested somewhere near San Francisco.

"Don't mention it." Archer responded. "We got your distress call. How did you end up on such a god-forsaken world as that?"

"We came through the stargate expecting it to be a lot more hospitable than it was." The man responded again, this time throwing something of a dirty look to the diminutive blond woman next to him on the transporter pad.

"Don't look at me. The Ancient database said that it should have been fully habitable." The woman responded defensively.

Returning to Archer, he continued, "When we realized the mistake we'd made we tried to dial home but the D.H.D. was dead and nothing we did worked. We even tried dialing the gate manually, but it was locked somehow from this side. You don't know how glad we are to see you… uh..." He said, first looking at Archer, and then he saw the face of the doctor attending him. "Where did you say you were from again?"

"You're on board the United Earth Star Ship _Enterprise_. We were on course to return to Earth when we received your S.O.S." Archer responded. "Jonathan Archer, Captain of this ship." He added after a pause.

"Colonel Ronan Shepherd." The newcomer replied. He then asked, "United Earth?"

The newcomer looked at Archer again, this time studying his uniform, and then he turned his gaze to look at all of their rescuers. He then turned to look at his companions with a strange expression of confusion on his face.

"Not Stargate Command?" The woman asked, also seeming confused.

"I'm sorry I'm not familiar with that organization. Your distress call mentioned it too. Our command structure is Starfleet Command based in San Francisco on Earth. Truth is, I know I've heard the term before, but I've been trying to remember where." Archer told them.

Phlox stepped back from his patients and reported. "They're very lucky captain. They have a few nasty sunburns, dehydration, and heat exhaustion, but are otherwise healthy. I'm not sure they would have been in such good condition had we not arrived when we did. Nevertheless, I'd like to take them to sickbay for some treatment, with your permission."

"Wait, you are from Earth, though, right?" Colonel Shepherd asked again.

"Most of us on board, yes." Archer replied.

"American? From the United States?" He questioned further.

"I'm from upstate New York, if that's what you mean." Archer replied. "But there hasn't been a formal 'United States' government in power for almost a hundred years."

"I'm from Florida if that helps." Trip chimed in.

Colonel Shepherd took a minute to process the information he'd just been given. He then said, "Then Captain, I think you're the closest thing to just the man we were sent to find."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Atlantis Colony's last communication with Stargate Command was in the year twenty forty four. A third world war had broken out and no one was pulling any punches. That was when the base had been completely evacuated. The last report our great grandparents had from those coming through the gate was that a nuclear warhead was on its way." Colonel Shepherd told those in sickbay listening to his story. "They tried to dial the gate again hundreds of times after that, but couldn't ever get a lock."

The team of four that had been rescued had been taken to sickbay where Doctor Phlox tended to their relatively minor injuries. Archer had dismissed the MACOs, but brought Trip along, still in his gym clothes. He had left Yoda and Travis in the gymnasium when Archer had called him up to the transporter.

"You keep talking about this 'stargate' thing. What is it?" Trip asked.

"You don't know what a stargate is?" The blond woman asked with a hint of sarcasm. "You're in a ship flying through hyperspace. How do you think you came by that technology?"

"A man named Zephram Cochrane who invented warp drive over a hundred years ago," Archer answered without hesitation, "and my father who continued his research. And for the record, we're not flying through hyperspace..."

Archer then snapped his fingers and turned towards Commander Tucker. "That's where I've heard the name before. I remember now. The 'stargate program,' Trip; it's where the plans for the hyperspace engines we tested came from. It was run by the old United States Air Force around the turn of the twenty first century." He then turned back to Colonel Shepherd, "That's what you've been talking about; the old Stargate program. The one… What was her name? Doctor… Samantha Carter. The one she was a part of? Right?"

"You know what? You're right Cap'n. I remember now. You'd think that was something I wouldn't ever forget considering; especially now. But I still don't understand what this 'stargate' thing is." Trip said.

The four newcomers listened to the exchange trying to gauge what page their rescuers were on and how much more to say. Then the blond woman spoke up again. "It's the big metal ring that sat in Stargate Command. You know, covered over with thirty nine symbols that represent star constellations in the Milky Way. You dial it up and it connects a wormhole to another gate in the network that you can travel through? Any of this ringing a bell? No?" She said, gesturing with her hands, looking back and forth between both men in frustration. "How can you know about the Stargate Program and not know about the Stargate?"

"Wormhole travel?" Archer repeated to himself, and then another light went on in his head and he said out loud almost more to himself "Daniel," as some of the pieces began to fall into place.

"Who?" Trip asked.

"Someone else I met on that mission a year ago. He told me, albeit very briefly, about the stargate. It was the reason why we had to leave our transporter behind." Archer responded to him. "The stargate he talked about used transporter technology to break down a person into a signal that could be transmitted through the wormhole."

"Wow. I think I get it now." Trip said, all the implications of such a device running through his head. He then asked the blond woman, "And you said there's supposed to be a network of these gates in the Milky Way? But wait, if there is, then why haven't we run into them before?"

"Good question." Archer said, turning to Shepherd.

"I don't know." Shepherd told him. "From what we were told, most of the inhabited planets in the Milky Way had them." He then glanced back at the doctor. "But then we understood that most if not all of the worlds here were inhabited by humans, brought from Earth."

The blond woman had been listening back and forth to this exchange, a calculating look on her face. She then asked, "Captain, about how far from Earth are we?"

"About fifteen light years or so, about a week and a half at warp four. Why?" Archer asked.

"That would explain it then." She said, though she had explained nothing.

"What would explain what?" Trip asked, confused.

"Most of the stargates that we know of in the Milky Way are scattered all over the galaxy. I can't think of any this close except for the one we just came through. You shouldn't even be able to see the stars where most of them are located from Earth, and this ship apparently isn't fast enough to reach most of those worlds in our lifetimes." She said matter of factly. "The truth is, too much closer to Earth, and another stargate might interfere with the operation of Earth's stargate."

"So you're saying the reason why we haven't run into them before is because most of them are too far away for us to reach with warp drive?" Archer asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Captain." She replied.

"Exactly how many of these stargates are in this network you're talking about?" Trip asked.

"From just the addresses we had in our database, upwards of two to three million." She responded. "But most of them were marked as no longer viable for one reason or another. This one was supposed to still be viable, and it was the closest we could get to Earth."

"So what was your plan? Get as close to Earth as you could, try to get a hold of someone, and if not just dial home?" Archer asked.

"Something like that." Shepherd responded. "It had been over a hundred years since anyone from Atlantis Colony had made contact with Stargate Command or anyone from Earth, and none of our allies left here in the Milky Way had either. We figured after a hundred years we should try and find out what happened. We couldn't send a ship because they're all occupied. We knew it was a long shot, but figured we needed to know if Earth was even still there."

"Well, I can tell you it's definitely still there." Archer said with a smile. "You can see for yourselves in a little over a week, once we get underway again."

"Captain, we need to make contact with Atlantis somehow and let them know we're okay first, and we can't wait a week to do it. It's already been over six hours since they dialed it up and we last checked in and they're probably thinking we're toast by now, literally. If they don't hear from us soon back on Lantea, they might try and send another team through to try and retrieve us." Shepherd told him, worry evident in his voice. "We still don't leave our people behind."

"Right." Archer said. "I'll have my communications officer work with you on that." He said.

"Oh, it's not going to be that simple." The blond woman spoke up again, almost smirking, though Archer couldn't understand what was so funny.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Archer asked.

"Doctor Jennifer McKay," She said, putting the emphasis on the word "doctor."

"Dr. McKay then. Why isn't it going to be that simple, doctor?" Archer asked.

"I'm pretty sure Atlantis is a little farther away than your equipment will be able to reach." She said.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I don't know. Subspace communications can go awfully fast." Trip added.

"Can it reach the Pegasus galaxy this month?" She asked.

"Pegasus?" Trip repeated in disbelief. "Your ancestors all evacuated to Pegasus? How in the world…?" He then stopped and answered his own question, "Hyperspace travel. You folks can use it, can't you? And those stargates you're talking about. They can cross galaxies, can't they?"

"With enough power, yes to both." She responded.

"So the only way you can call home without risking them sending someone else through to get trapped…" Archer began to say, and the blond woman finished for him, the smirk replaced by an all business seriousness, "is by finding a way to dial the stargate on the planet below us, yes."

Travis was exhausted. He never thought he could get so tired in his life, but the little green Jedi Master seemed to keep trying to push him farther and farther beyond anything he had thought he was actually capable of. His muscles ached from the strains they had been under, but even more he felt emotionally and mentally exhausted as his concentration and ability to focus were stretched as Yoda demanded he tap into more and more of the Force to accomplish the tasks he gave him.

Finally, after almost eight hours of this non-stop, Yoda relented.

"Enough for now. No more have I to teach you today." He said, and it sounded like the sweetest words he had ever heard in his life. "Rest, we both need."

"Right. Yes. Rest is good." Travis said as he came down from yet another Force influenced handstand that was more like a one finger stand while trying to levitate hundred pound weights and keep his instructor balanced on his foot; all at the same time.

"Man, did you train all of your apprentices this way?" Travis asked him, sitting down on the floor for a minute to recover enough before he retreated to his quarters for the night. That is, after he reported to the captain.

"Some." Yoda responded. "More intensive instruction others needed. No one exactly the same." Yoda then took his tiny cane and pointed with it at Travis's forehead. "Already within you all you need to know. Remember you will when the time is right. Helping remind you of what you already know I am. That is all."

Travis then felt pity for his former apprentices who didn't already have their training locked in their heads.

"Can the Force help me to recover those memories?" Travis asked.

Yoda thought for a minute, and then answered. "Help you it can, if accept it you do."

"I don't understand. How have I not been accepting it?" Travis asked, confused. He had just finished eight hours of accepting the Force and allowing it to flow through him at Yoda's direction.

"Answer that question, I cannot. This answer only you possess." Yoda replied cryptically.

Travis stared off into space trying to understand what Yoda was trying to say. After a few minutes, Yoda interrupted his thoughts.

"Fascinating, the ship's bulkhead is?" He asked, looking in the same direction Travis had been.

"I'm sorry." Travis said, shaking himself out of his own head. He rose to his feet and said, "let me help you back to sickbay."

Yoda closed his eyes, drew in a breath and then exhaled calmly and said, "Occupied your sickbay is. New refugees your captain has taken on board, besides myself. A new place to stay for tonight I may need." He told him without further explanation.

"What? Oh. Uh… Well, there's an extra bunk in my quarters I guess if it's okay with the captain." Travis offered offhand without actually considering what he was saying.

"My thanks. Approach your captain, we will." Yoda said.

"So, you're telling me this whole city of Atlantis you were born and raised in is actually a giant starship, and it was originally built on Earth by an ancient race of human beings over a million years ago?" Trip asked, trying to come to grips with the new understanding of the world the blond scientist was revealing to him and finding his grip slipping just a bit.

The captain had assigned him and T'Pol to work with Dr. McKay to figure out why the stargate was locked. The conversation which grew out of the discussion of the ancient technology which powered the stargate and its dialing device proved to be anything but boring.

"In a manner of speaking," McKay responded. "The Ancients were the first evolution of human beings, but they weren't originally from Earth. The truth is that we're still not exactly sure where in the universe they came from. There's no mention of their point of origin in Atlantis' database. Maybe they themselves forgot where they came from over the millions of years of their civilization's existence." She speculated.

"What happened to them?" T'Pol asked. "It is illogical that a society that highly advanced would just disappear."

"That's a long story. There was a plague in the Milky Way a million years ago, and the few that survived left Earth and headed for Pegasus with Atlantis. Then, ten thousand years ago, they came under attack from another hostile alien race called the wraith and were forced to abandon the city and return to Earth through the stargate where those that could learned to shed their physical form and ascend to a higher plane of existence." McKay said as she used the tablet computer from her backpack to pull up some schematics. "A very few of them were able to return to human form later on; some as recently as a thousand years ago."

T'Pol then paused as though trying to confirm that she had just heard correctly. She gave Commander Tucker a knowing look, and he returned it.

He asked the scientist, "So, this whole ascending thing didn't have to be permanent?"

"Not if they didn't want it to be. One of my great grandfather's colleagues ascended after he died from radiation poisoning, only to return to mortal form a year later." She said, almost non-chalantly as though it was an every day occurrence. "Colonel Shepherd thinks his great grandfather John was helped to ascend before he died too, but no one knows for certain except that his body disappeared. There's a story in his family that John Shepherd fell in love with an ascended woman once, and when he was close to death, she brought him to be with her."

"Why would someone need help to ascend?" T'Pol asked without emotion.

"The ancients could do it on their own because of their evolved brain. They also spent most of their lives meditating in preparation for it. But us regular folks can't do it on our own unless another ascended being helps them." She explained. "Alright, here are all of the schematics I have on the stargate and the D.H.D. I've never seen any stargate with any kind of a locking mechanism on it before that would prevent it from dialing." She said, changing the subject to the matter at hand.

Trip began working his way through the schematics and shook his head. "Can't say I've ever seen engineering like this before. What about you T'Pol?"

T'Pol studied it for some time. She then observed, "The technology appears to be based on crystalline lattice storage and information transfer."

"Mm-hmm." Came Dr. McKay's response. "All of the Ancients' tech was based on it by the time Atlantis left Earth for Pegasus a million years ago."

"Opening up a wormhole has to take a massive amount of power, not to mention the transporter part of the mechanism. Where's the power source?" Trip asked.

"It actually doesn't take as much power as you might think. The stargate acts like a big capacitor, absorbing energy directly." She explained. "You can apply a direct electrical charge to power it, heat energy. I've even heard of stargates being powered by a lightning strike or the energy from a black hole. On most stargates though, the regular power source is located in the D.H.D. and transferred wirelessly to the gate."

"You said you've never seen a stargate locked like this before, correct?" T'Pol asked.

"Correct." Dr. McKay responded. "Usually, if someone didn't want someone else using the stargate to leave, they'd just take the D.H.D. That way people could come through the stargate from another location, but not leave back through it."

"Do you have any information on this particular world, and the site where the stargate is located?" T'Pol asked.

"Not really." She admitted. "It was listed in the database as some kind of training outpost for a religious order around the time Atlantis left Earth, but there was no more description than that. Why, what are you thinking?"

"If locking the stargate in this way is an extraordinary occurrence, then perhaps it has something to do with the function of the site where it is located. Perhaps it is locked in such a way so that only an authorized person may use it." T'Pol responded.

"Like a member of the aforementioned religious order?" Trip followed with her.

"It is logical." T'Pol answered.

"But then why would they allow just anyone to come through?" Dr. McKay asked, confused. "Why not put a shield over the gate as well to prevent it?"

"What would putting a shield over the gate do?" Trip asked.

"It would keep people from materializing on this end." After a minute, she then explained further, "it would kill them."

"You said it was some kind of a monastery or something for a religious order, right?" Trip asked. He then continued before she could answer, "Maybe it was against their beliefs to put something up that might kill an innocent person. Maybe they weren't as concerned about people coming in as they were about people leaving before they were ready to face whatever it was they were training to face."

"That's all well and good, but usually when the Ancients wanted to lock someone out of a piece of tech they would encode it so that only someone with Ancient D.N.A. could use it. We call it the A.T.A. gene. Both Colonel Shepherd and I already have it."

"Perhaps these 'Ancients' as you call them weren't as concerned about the species which used this stargate as they were about the level of training involved." Trip responded.

Dr. McKay took a minute to process that. "Okay, but how does that help us unlock the gate so we can contact Atlantis? We would need someone who had this religious training to unlock it for us."

"And you have no information as to who they were?" T'Pol asked.

"'Fraid not." She responded. "It's not the first religious community set up by the Ancients that we've found not explained in the database."

Trip studied the schematics more, trying to make sense of them. Trying to figure out an engineering puzzle always cleared his mind and helped him to think better, except he was sure this wasn't necessarily just an engineering puzzle. He set the tablet down after a few more minutes, and said, "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" T'Pol asked.

"I've got a hunch 'bout this. I wanna go talk to our other new friend and see if he knows anything that can help us." He told her, and then left them.

"Other new friend?" Dr. McKay asked, confused.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The world was quiet as shuttlepod one touched down just outside of the sandstone carved settlement. It was serene and peaceful, as though nothing could, or did disturb it. Even the roar of the shuttlepod's engines failed to make an impression before Travis cut the power to them after touchdown. The shuttlepod's door opened, and the first thing the first person to disembark heard was the deafening sound of silence that only a deep desert can make.

Behind him a voice said, "Why would anyone in their right mind put a settlement here? This world looks as dead and sterile as they come."

Yoda closed his eyes, and shook his head. "Dead this world seems on the surface, but life there is deep below. Strong here the Force remains." He pronounced cryptically before opening his eyes again, and slowly exiting the space vehicle, with each step his cane slowly and methodically tapping the stony ground the pod had landed on.

"I don't get it," Trip said, following right behind him. "With no vegetation, how is there even breathable atmosphere here? What's producing the oxygen?" He wiped sweat from his forehead with his tan desert uniform's sleeve. He was immensely grateful for the heat dissipation technology built into it.

The heat was dry, not humid like his home in Florida, but it was intense all the same. It reminded him of the desert world, Torotha, he and his captain visited their first year into _Enterprise's_ primary mission. Forty one degrees and he had described it as "hotter 'n hell." Torotha had nothing on this nameless world. Trip looked up at the sky to see one sun almost directly overhead, and another, smaller sun down towards the horizon in the distance. "Just because one sun beatin' down on you just isn't enough." He said under his breath.

"I guess we can add that to our list of mysteries about this planet." Colonel Shepherd said in response to Trip's more vocal question as he followed behind him, eying the diminutive green Jedi Master curiously that was now standing three meters from the pod and appearing to be listening for something.

Shepherd took a look around, trying to orient himself as to his directions. To their north was a ridge of desert mountains which the settlement backed itself up against. To their south was what appeared to be open dunes. They had landed on the eastern side of the settlement.

"The stargate's that way, on the other side of the settlement. That's where we left our gear when you beamed us up." He said, pointing west towards the collection of single story structures which Trip thought resembled pictures of ancient towns or villages from Earth's Middle Eastern regions in the eastern hemisphere.

"You sure this was supposed to have been built by a technologically advanced race? Something tells me these folks wouldn't know the difference between a wormhole and a bathtub drain." Trip remarked.

"Most of their settlements were like this," Shepherd responded, explaining, "especially the religiously oriented ones where regular humans might find themselves for one reason or another. We think it's because of their most basic principle of non-interference. They didn't want to interfere with the natural development of a population, even those they planted. Most of the technology was concentrated in research and development cities like Atlantis, or research outposts."

"Never goes well to give the very young too much power." Yoda observed, not changing his stance. "Not do as they are told they will. Harm themselves too often they will."

Travis finally exited the vehicle after making all of his post-flight checks. The effect of how hot this world was on the pod was a concern to him. He didn't want to come back and find all of the pod's circuits melted, but he figured it should be okay for a few hours anyways, and Commander Tucker was with them just in case.

"So, which way do we go?" Travis asked.

Shepherd pointed west with his whole hand, and said, "That way."

The four then began walking towards the remains of the settlement, but it became apparent right away that they would have to move much more slowly than the three men could have as Yoda moved as fast as his very short stride and aged body would allow him.

"Uh, Travis, why don't the Colonel and I scout ahead a little. You two can meet up with us at the stargate." Commander Tucker told him, trying to be politic about it.

"Yeah, sure." Travis answered knowingly.

As the two other men moved off, Yoda asked, "In a hurry they are? Going nowhere the stargate is."

"I think Commander Tucker just wants to get out of here as soon as he can. The desert doesn't exactly agree with him. I think it's the heat." Travis answered.

"Serene the desert is." Yoda replied as he stopped and leaned on his cane. "Allows one to focus and meditate free from distraction it does. Good place for training Jedi it is."

Travis stopped next to him and began to get a sinking feeling as soon as the Jedi Master said it. "Master, I don't think we're going to have time for..."

Yoda began to chuckle. "No, not you and I. Correct you are that time we do not have. But in time past… Perhaps a short lesson we do have time for. Open yourself up and feel them you will as well." He told him.

"But what about Commander Tucker and Colonel…?" Travis began to protest.

"Not long will this take, and answer some questions about this place it will for you… And perhaps for them as well." Yoda told him.

Travis looked towards the direction that Commander Tucker and Colonel Shepherd had gone, but they were already out of sight behind some small buildings. Defeated, he closed his eyes and relaxed, opening himself up and stretching out his awareness to the settlement around him.

At first, nothing would come to him. And then, little by little he could feel traces of feelings flowing through the Force. They were like faint imprints of people long past. Funny thing was, they didn't feel like just memories of feelings (and how he knew that he couldn't say), but like living beings that were here and yet not. It was weird.

"I can feel… people here. Sort of like feelings or memories but more than that. I'm not sure how to explain it." Travis told him, his eyes still closed as he tried to focus more.

"One with the Cosmic Force they have become." Yoda said, nodding. "More there is to see." He encouraged.

Travis reached out to the imprints. He felt men and women. They were calm, peaceful as though meditating. They felt detached from things, but not cold. The Force… The Force was strong with them. He said as much to Yoda.

"Yes. Strong with them it was," Yoda replied, and then added "and is."

"They were Jedi?" Travis asked as he opened his eyes.

"Yes, and no." Yoda responded. "Strong with the Force they were, but Jedi they were not. Seeking union with the Cosmic Force beyond death they were. Understand now the stargate lock do you?"

Travis shook his head slowly, "Not really, why would someone come here without a way back unless..." Realization dawned on him. "They were coming here to die, weren't they?"

"Coming to ascend, Ronan Shepherd might say." Yoda countered. "After that, all paths open to them were."

"So, you're saying they're still here?" Travis asked, a little creeped out at the thought of ghosts haunting the settlement.

It must have been evident in his voice, because Yoda chuckled again, "Afraid of ghosts are you, hmmm? Join them you will soon enough, one way or the other, as all must." His tone then became more serious. "The way of things this is, the way of the Force. Fear them do not. Mourn for them do not. From the Force we come, to the Force we go. One with the Force we remain, ignorant of this though one may be."

Travis felt struck by the profoundness of the thought as he continued to feel the "ghosts" around him. "Wow." He said. "I've never thought of it that way before."

"Mmm. Come, await us the others do. Use the stargate without us they will not." Yoda told him as he started walking again, almost twice as fast as he had before.

The hot air continued to circulate around Trip and Shepherd as Trip inspected the D.H.D. and the stargate. He had to admit, it was an impressively elegant and simplistic design.

The stargate and it's operating device were set on a stone platform carved from bedrock about twenty or thirty meters away from the nearest of the settlement's structures. Whoever had set it up was looking to give it as much space as they could, it looked like to the starship engineer.

The stargate itself was a metal loop about seven meters in diameter which was positioned at a ninety degree angle from the ground within a stone groove or stand. A set of sandstone steps led up to it, though he could see that those who placed it here took pains that they didn't overlap or obstruct the open ring. Upon closer inspection he could see it was actually one ring set into another, obviously meant to be spun like a dial. The inner ring was covered in the symbol glyphs that Dr. McKay had told him were representations of star constellations used as coordinate markers, and these symbols corresponded to buttons on the D.H.D. The outer ring had seven large, red crystal chevrons set equidistantly from one another around the face of the gate and pointing inward, with the center top one having a section cut out to expose the symbol directly underneath it. According to Dr. McKay, all someone should have to do is enter the six destination coordinates and the point of origin coordinate and away you went. But this one wasn't cooperating at all.

Trip wiped the sweat from his forehead for the tenth time in about as many minutes as he checked all of the sassy blond scientist's connections and specs. What breeze there was didn't help at all.

"Now I wish Phlox had cleared that scientist of yours to come down here with us again." Trip told Shepherd. "I'm playing who knows how many millennia of catch up learning on this thing."

"Me too, although she went over it with a fine tooth comb already." Shepherd responded. "If she could have solved the problem herself, she would have by now." He told him as he kept looking back the way they had come. "Speaking of which, how long do you think it will take your friends to get here?"

"They should be catching up. The shorter one's not much of a spring chicken anymore as I understand it, but he should be fine." Trip said, checking the connection between the power source the strangers had brought with them and the stargate. Everything looked alright as far as he could tell. It was actually pretty straightforward as far as power transfer connections were concerned, and, except for the power unit itself, looked like it was based on Earth's old electrical power systems before plasma transfer came into wide use.

"Yeah, about that," Shepherd asked, "is it just me or does he look a lot like a character from an old movie I saw a while back?"

Trip stopped, grinned a bit, and said, "You know, we've run across so many different species on our missions, I hadn't really thought about it. But yeah, I guess he does, doesn't he?" Better that than go into it with a total stranger he thought to himself.

He continued, "But I do know he's been part of a religious order that sounded a lot like the kind of thing you folks were describing, and he's been kind of taking Travis under his wing a little. Teaching him some techniques or something to help him focus. Y'know, be a better pilot and all that." It wasn't a complete lie, Trip told himself. It just wasn't entirely the truth. Trip wasn't sure Ronan Shepherd could handle the whole truth anyway, even if it wasn't about as classified as it got.

"You into classical science fiction, Colonel?" Trip asked, somewhat changing the subject.

"A little. We've got a pretty good library of old Earth movies and media that Atlantis brought from Earth when it left the last time. A lot of it seems pretty far fetched." He replied. Then he stopped and looked off into the distance again, and then looked back at Trip. "Then again, some of it didn't seem to go nearly far enough, did it? At least not from my experience."

"Boy, ain't that the truth." Trip agreed. "Okay," he said getting back to the business at hand, "I've been over this thing with the specs Dr. McKay gave me, and I'm not seeing any reason why this thing shouldn't be doing what it was designed to do. I'm not even seeing any kind of a physical obstruction in the ring itself. Just so I can see what it's doing, I'm going to give it a try."

Shepherd gestured towards the D.H.D., "Be my guest." He said. "Oh, and by the way, my friends call me Ronan."

"My friends call me Trip." Trip responded. "I'm only 'Commander Tucker' when someone has to be official, and to the dignitaries and rookie crew members." He said, giving another grin.

Trip then went over to the D.H.D., and Colonel Shepherd backed away from the stargate instinctively. Trip took note he was careful to avoid the area directly in front of the gate. "Don't like to stand in front of it, eh Ronan?"

"Turn it on and you'll find out why." Shepherd quipped.

"So noted." Trip replied, and then he entered the eight symbols the Atlantis team's scientist had given him. The seven every address required, Dr. McKay had explained, plus one more because it was going to another galaxy. "Kind of like an area code on Earth's old telecommunications systems." She had said.

He entered the final symbol, the one designating point of origin, and then hit the big red crystal in the middle which was supposed to send the address to the gate and send it spinning.

He heard a humming sound, and the red crystal chevrons glowed once, twice, three times and then everything went dark.

"I take it that wasn't supposed to happen." Trip remarked.

"Nope. It's usually a lot more impressive." Shepherd agreed.

Trip scratched his head and thought a minute. "You were able to make a connection to get here. Didn't you have any way of checking the place out before you came through?"

"Yeah, we tried sending that through first." Shepherd pointed to a four wheeled robot that looked like it might have been more at home in the Mars exploration exhibit at the Smithsonian back home in North America. "It told us the atmosphere was breathable. Hot, but breathable. We came through, radioed back the all clear through the gate, and the connection was shut down from the other end."

"So you had no way of knowing the gate wouldn't budge from this side?" Trip asked rhetorically. "Any chance they'd try to contact you again before they send someone else through looking for you? Could you talk to them then?"

"Our check in was supposed to be six hours after we arrived, right around the time your ship picked us up. They could have dialed in and we wouldn't have been here to tell them not to send anyone." He replied.

"So they could be gearing a second team up right now?" Trip asked, continuing his line of reasoning.

"Yep. That's why we've got to get a hold of them somehow." Shepherd told him.

"Right." Trip said, looking back towards the abandoned buildings of the settlement. He finally saw the two figures they had been looking for emerge around the corner of the structure.

"What took you fellas so long?" Trip called out. "We were beginning to break out the poker cards waiting for you."

"Sorry, Master Yoda wanted to uh, point something out to me." Travis replied. "Something having to do with the previous inhabitants."

"Right." Trip responded as they came closer.

Yoda stopped near the coppery metallic pedestal of the D.H.D. and surveyed the great ring in front of him, studying it. "Recognize this, I do not." He pronounced.

"Great." Shepherd said, his frustration evident. "Now what?"

Yoda continued to face the ring unperturbed. "Recognize it, I do not. Unable to help this may not mean. Many objects created were in my time that only to the Force do they respond."

The diminutive, elfin eared monk closed his eyes and held out a hand towards the ring, as though searching for something. "Ah, yes." He finally pronounced. "Simple this lock is. Magnetically based it is. Buried in the ring itself. Requires a Force wielder to operate it does without dismantling the device completely. Not difficult. Not difficult at all."

Looks of both relief and puzzlement flooded over Shepherd's face, "That's the best news I've heard all day, I think. But what does that mean, a 'force wielder?'"

Yoda chuckled and told Commander Tucker, "Dial the device again. Will work this time, I promise you."

Trip looked at Yoda, and then did as he was instructed as Yoda stretched out his hand again and closed his eyes. When he hit the rounded red crystal in the center of the pedestal the effect was dramatically different as the inner ring began to spin and the chevrons began to light up in sequence. Within seconds a great vortex of what appeared to the naked eye as something like a combination of bright blue light and water rushed out of the ring's opening towards them and then just as quickly retreated back into the gate.

Immediately, a small communications device not unlike the communicators Trip and his crew mates used appeared in Shepherd's hand and he began to speak into it, "Atlantis Command this is Shepherd, do you copy?"

Within seconds he received a response through the device, and then began to explain his team's situation, and the warning he gave for them to not send another team through just yet. There seemed to be some surprise on the other end at the news of a United Earth ship rescuing them, as well as the other details of recent Earth history and technology he relayed.

"We're going to continue with the _Enterprise_ back to Earth and try and see what happened to Stargate Command and Earth's stargate, as well as continue to establish formal contact with the current Earth government." Shepherd told those on the other end. "If all goes well, we'll return to Atlantis though the Cheyenne Mountain stargate."

At the mention of Cheyenne Mountain, Travis noticed, Yoda gave a strange look of recognition as though he were trying to remember something. The pilot reached out in the Force to the ancient Master to try and learn more, but all he could discern was that the location was both important and disturbing to him.

Yoda then turned and looked back at Travis with a tired, weary look as though the weight of the world sat on his aged shoulders.

He knows something about it that he's not telling us yet, Travis thought to himself, but said nothing.

Finally, the call home was broken off, and the gate was shut down. "I guess that's mission accomplished, Trip said."

"Yeah. We're going to need to take the Z.P.M. Jennifer's got hooked up to the gate with us." Shepherd told him. "We're going to need it if we're going to be able to dial Atlantis again from Earth's gate."

"Z.P.M.?" Trip asked.

"The zero point energy module there she's got connected to the gate." The colonel replied, pointing at the small cylindrical crystal set into a metal brace connected to the stargate by cables.

"Zero point energy?" Trip asked again, whistling. "I've heard about that being discussed around the table by engineers for years, but I never thought I ever see one produced. That's got to produce more power than even an anti-matter reactor."

"Let's just say you don't want to see one explode from within the same solar system." Shepherd responded in such a way that Trip would have sworn he was speaking from experience.

Trip shook his head at the thought and went to work disconnecting it and packing it away.

When he was almost done, his communicator chirped and he pulled it out of the pocket on his sleeve. "Tucker here." He responded.

"Get to the pod and get your away team back up here, Trip." Came captain Archer's voice through the device.

"You got it. We just finished up. What's the hurry?" He asked.

"We've got company coming into the system, Trip, and they don't look friendly." Archer responded ominously.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The air on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ was filled with tension as Archer watched the forward view screen and the information it was giving him about their new "friends" coming to greet them.

"How long 'til they're in weapons range?" Archer asked.

"Ten minutes at present speed, sir." Came Malcolm's response. "Two Klingon battlecruisers."

"We're four days out from Klingon space." Archer observed. "What are they doing here?" Archer asked. "No one followed us, right?"

"No one that we know of." T'Pol answered. "Logic suggests this is a separate patrol from those that we engaged in the debris field." She then added, "The Klingons don't necessarily recognize territorial boundaries, Captain. They see the rest of the galaxy as theirs as well. They just haven't gotten to it yet." T'Pol responded.

"How long until the away team reaches the shuttlepod?" The captain asked again, contemplating another use of the transporter.

"I'm already picking up four..." T'Pol paused, "No, five bio-signs at the landing site. Captain, they're Klingon." She reported, concern for her crew mates coloring her otherwise dispassionate tone.

Trip, Shepherd, Travis, and Yoda all packed up as much as they could carry of the Atlantis team's supplies and had headed back to the shuttle pod on the other side of the settlement as quickly as they could, but it was still ten minutes later by the time they were on the move again. As fast as Yoda could move on his own, his stride was still considerably slower than the three taller men, but Trip wouldn't leave him and Travis behind to scout ahead again.

Shepherd had retrieved the weapon he had involuntarily left behind when the _Enterprise_ had transported his team aboard; an antique, pellet and cartridge based rifle which could fire either single shot or multiple rounds in a second. Trip thought it looked like it could have been used in the last World War Earth had experienced the century before. The rifle was slung on a strap around Shepherd's neck with some care in addition to the strange looking pistol that was strapped to the man's leg using velcro fasteners.

"That's quite the antique you've got there, and it good shape too." Trip mentioned. "I'll bet our tactical officer would give anything to have a look at it."

"Thanks. Yeah, it belonged to my grandfather who got it from his dad. There aren't many of these old service weapons left in the colony. It's been kind of a tradition to take it out with us on missions." Shepherd explained. "I'd have hated to lose it."

"I'll bet." Trip responded. "How do you get ammunition for it?"

"Atlantis has some replication technology available, and we have trading partners in Pegasus that still use projectile weapons like this. From what Jennifer and her brother Rod tell me, the bullets for it aren't all that hard to make." Shepherd responded.

The four crossed the abandoned settlement carefully, laden down the Atlantis team's gear. Trip held the case with the zero point power module slung on a belt around his shoulder, while Travis and Shepherd each had their own load of whatever gear they could carry back to the pod in one trip. The three men had politely spared the aged, diminutive Yoda any burden other than his cane, although he had offered to carry what he could.

All of them were sweating profusely from the heat, and the extra weight. The cooling function on the starfleet desert uniforms had begun to be overwhelmed, and wet stains from their sweat seeped out and spread over their clothing.

"How… How much further?" Trip asked, breathing heavily.

"Not far." Travis responded, his own breathing becoming heavy. "Just on the other side of that building there." He said, pointing forward.

"Good. Cause when I get to the shuttlepod, I'm setting the environmental controls to 'arctic' permanently." Trip responded.

They rounded the building and were greeted by a less than welcoming "tera'ngan!" and "mev!"

Travis's universal translator attached to his uniform rendered the words as "humans!" and "stop!" As they pulled up to a stop to face five heavily armed Klingons with weapons drawn, their forehead plates pronounced and threatening, and fangs visible with lips pulled back in grins upon seeing the three humans and tiny alien that traveled with them. Each of them held long, sharp, curved bladed weapons that held edges in places Travis couldn't imagine anyone needed them to be. They didn't appear to be anywhere near as affected by the heat as the humans.

The Klingons were standing next to the shuttlepod and had been facing towards it with what looked like a communicator in hand, but when one of them had raised the alarm, they all turned towards the four newcomers, their blades held in threatening stances.

Immediately Shepherd's antique weapon came into his hands, almost as if it had a life of its own, and the barrel was pointing at the largest, fur vested Klingon in the group.

"Hi fellas. Nice day isn't it?" Shepherd quipped. "Listen, If you wouldn't mind getting out of our way, we're in kind of a hurry and really need to get into that shuttle there."

"You humans and that little rat have no business here, petaQ!" The Klingon responded, spitting.

"Hey guys, if this place was yours, you're welcome to it. We were just leaving anyways." Trip added.

"You're not going anywhere, petaQ." The big one returned, and brought out something like a black phase pistol but with a longer barrel and a wicked looking raptor shaped head from a holster.

"Anyone want to tell me what 'petaQ' means?" Shepherd asked, lowering his gun in a mock frustrated manner.

For a second, the Klingons looked confused and then they grinned at each other at the human's idiocy. Everyone knew what "petaQ" meant, of course.

Then Travis responded, "You don't want to know."

"That's what I thought." Shepherd said, and his rifle snapped back up and brief jets of flame came out the barrel. The big Klingon went down on one knee as bursts of twenty eight millimeter rounds ripped into his otherwise unprotected chest. The spray then went to his companions and bright pink blood began to cover them. But none of them dropped to the ground dead as he had expected.

"Oh, hell." Shepherd exclaimed.

Then the big one stood up again and charged Shepherd, covering the distance in just a few strides, his speed and strength inhuman and not giving Shepherd or Trip any time to react. The Klingon's companions, covered in their own blood, roared with rage and joined him, sharp flashing blades raised to come down on the heads of the humans.

Time suddenly slowed down for Travis as long dormant instinct kicked in. Suddenly he was just "aware" of not only where everyone was, but where they would be in the next instant. Standing just behind Trip, he could sense the aggression and surprise of the Klingons. He felt their anger at the humans, their sense of violation of… something sacred. The humans weren't supposed to be here.

Before he could say something, Shepherd had squeezed his trigger. A red laser dot had emitted from the archaic weapon. And any chance of their talking their way out of this had disappeared as Travis felt each pellet leave the barrel of the weapon and speed towards the Klingon's chest. None of them had been aware before then of the many redundant organs lying within it.

As the Klingon charged Shepherd, Travis let himself go to the Force, and his hand flew up and reached out to a wicked looking blade that hung at the Klingon's side. The two handed sword (or was it a dagger?) flew into his hands and Travis jumped in between the Klingon and Shepherd, bringing the blade up to meet the curved blade as it came down. His left hand came up and through the Force, the Klingon was thrown two meters backwards onto the stone, his eyes closed into unconsciousness.

His companions wasted no time as they immediately changed targets and went for Travis's somewhat muscular, athletic frame which had now assumed a combat stance, two hands on the hilt of the weapon.

The first one tried to make contact, but Travis saw the swing before it happened and ducked out of the way, then somersaulted over the Klingon's head bring his own blade to bear on the Klingon's fighting arm, which then fell to the ground leaving a cleanly cut wound bleeding profusely.

The next one attempted to use the black phase pistol, but Travis tugged it out of his hands through the Force and it flew out of his hands and away off into the settlement. Immediately a blade similar to the one Travis was wielding appeared in the Klingon's hands and it swung towards the helmsman.

Travis sensed another blade attempting to come up from behind him and he leaped high into the air and landed two meters away to see one Klingon taking off the head of another Klingon, missing his right fore arm, that had plunged a dagger into his chest. Both fell to the ground dead.

Near him Travis could hear a Klingon voice screaming into the air, "Grethor Fek'lhr!" His universal translator had no words for it.

The remaining two Klingons faced him, crescent moon curved swords in their hands, but he saw something in their eyes he had never witnessed from a Klingon before, _fear_. He could feel it as well, coming off of them in waives, the Force telling him they believed they were looking at something straight out of their own version of hell.

"Take your wounded and go!" Travis shouted at them, putting the Force behind his words.

The two Klingons grabbed their unconscious and wounded comrade, holding him up under each arm, and then hauled him towards the shelter of a building in the ruins. As soon as they were out of site, Travis ran across the pink blood soaked stone to the shuttlepod and hit the code on the hatch to open the door.

"Let's go!" He shouted to his companions as he ducked inside to the pilot's seat, flipping switches, and hitting buttons until the familiar sound of the engines firing filled his ears. He turned around in his seat, expecting to see his companions behind him, but the pod was still empty.

Travis got up, and ducked his head out of the pod's entry to see Trip and Shepherd still standing there, while Yoda was slowly making his way towards the pod, his cane tapping against the rock. The chief engineer and Atlantis soldier had looks of profound shock on their faces.

They didn't have time for that, and Travis knew it.

"Commander, Colonel, we've got to go!" He shouted again at them, and they seemed to wake as they started moving towards the shuttlepod, though as in a daze.

The first to reach the pod and climb in was Yoda, who did so calmly as though nothing unusual had happened. He reached his seat, and buckled himself in quietly, a serious expression on his wizened, light green face.

Finally Trip and Shepherd entered the pod and strapped themselves in, both of them staring at Travis in bewilderment, their mouths still partly open, as he hit a button and closed the shuttlepod's entry door, and launched the pod into the air.

After they were in the air, Trip finally spoke, "Travis, what the hell was that? One second I thought Ronan here was gonna get his skull split in two, a split second later, there're Klingons in pieces all over the ground, and you're shouting at us to keep up!"

Shepherd added, "Yeah, what are you, some kind of Jedi Knight from those old movies or something?"

Travis didn't turn his seat or respond as he continued to focus on the edge of space coming increasingly nearer to them. In truth, he was thankful for the task of flying the shuttlepod. It gave him an excuse to pretend he hadn't heard it, even though the question continued to echo in his mind ever louder and louder.

In his seat, Yoda gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, an expression of satisfaction in his eyes, though none of the others had noticed.

The shuttlepod broke through the blue edge of the atmosphere and into the star filled blackness of planetary orbit. Travis skillfully directed the pod to where he knew Enterprise should be, directly over the landing site in high, geostationary orbit.

What he saw through the forward view bubble instead was a series of fireballs in space.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

From the edge of the atmosphere where the shuttlepod had just emerged, through the pod's forward view bubble, Travis saw the terrifying sight before his companions did. Flanked by two raptor shaped Klingon cruisers, it looked as though the _Enterprise_ was burning in space.

"Travis, did you hear me? I want to know where all that came from." Trip's voice became more insistant. But Travis had other concerns on his mind at the moment.

"Hang on Commander, we've got company." Travis deflected the question.

From his encroaching vantage point, he could see warp plasma venting from the port nacelle, and the saucer section had taken heavy damage. His eyes darted to the hostile ships and could see they had taken some damage as well, but the _Enterprise_ had taken the brunt of the uneven firefight.

In front of him, jets of green Klingon disruptor fire, silent in the vacuum of space, lanced out at the starfleet ship, to be returned by red blasts of phase cannon fire which tore from his ship's saucer section and sliced back at the Klingons. As good of a fight as Malcolm was giving, Travis knew the odds were against the Earth ship surviving the encounter.

Panic and a sense of helplessness began to rise within the pilot. There would be no fancy flying maneuvers to save his crew mates' lives this time, and the shuttlepod was unarmed.

"What d'ya mean, 'we've got company'? Travis, what's going on out there?" Trip demanded to know.

"Looks like the Captain's got some unwelcome company he's trying to deal with." Trip responded, trying to understate the issue.

Trip unbuckled himself from his straps and came up to the pilot's seat to stand next to Travis so he could see out the forward view.

"Oh hell." He said as he surveyed the situation. "We've gotta do something!" He reacted. "Travis, what about all that fancy flying you did back in the debris field? Could you get the Klingons to fire on each other, maybe?" Commander Tucker asked, trying to quickly think through any way the little shuttlepod could help.

The two were joined by Colonel Shepherd, who also quickly assessed the situation. "Nope, I've tried something like that before. It didn't work much then either. The two hostiles are too busy shooting up the _Enterprise_ to worry about a tiny, unarmed shuttle."

"Damn, they shot up my warp nacelle! She can't run neither!" Trip exclaimed.

"Do you have any way to dock? Maybe sneak aboard one of the Klingon ships and disable it from the inside?" Shepherd asked. "They may be so busy they won't notice us."

"No, the minute we try it, their sensors will go off and we'll have a party of angry Klingons waiting for us at the airlock." Trip told him.

Travis tried to think through any possible options. _Enterprise_ couldn't open their shuttlebay doors to receive them in the middle of that, and with the warp nacelle out of commission they weren't going anywhere any time soon.

"A powerful ally is the Force." Yoda's quiet, gravelly voice came through the shuttlepod. "But then, just a pilot are you, yes?"

"What are you saying, Master Yoda?" Travis shot back. "Are you saying I can do something about this from here? Tell me what to do. I'll try anything!"

"Try? Heh!" Yoda laughed briefly. "Learned nothing have you?"

"I don't understand!" Travis returned as he watched another disruptor blast tear into the starboard side of the saucer.

"A good pilot this situation needs not." Yoda responded evenly. "A Jedi, yes. A powerful Jedi with the Force as his ally… He could save his friends."

"But I'm not..." Travis began to say, "I mean, I'm..."

"Just a pilot, yes. This much I know." Yoda taunted coldly. Then his tone of voice became more the mentor and instructor Travis had come to know. "A Jedi you are, or a Jedi you are not. The choice is yours, young one. Choose wisely you must."

"What are you talking about?" Trip demanded. "Travis, what's he saying?"

Travis didn't answer as he fought within himself, watching the next explosion tear across the port nacelle from a cruiser just off the port and to the aft of his vessel. He tried to remember everything he had supposedly been taught before, but it was still a blur. Master Yoda seemed to expect that he should know what to do, but his mind became a blank as the pod grew closer to the battle.

"Either I'm a Jedi or I'm not." Travis told himself. The key seemed to lie there somewhere within him and he reached deep within himself and into the Force to find it.

The truth was that he was afraid of it. Once he had discovered the answer to all the mystery surrounding the mission from the previous year, it had sounded exciting at first, but then the reality of what it could mean settled in. He didn't want to believe that there was anything different or special about him like that. He didn't want the weight of a world, or of a galaxy on his shoulders. He was just a pilot. A good pilot, but just a pilot.

Except his friends didn't need a good pilot right now. So what was he? Just a pilot, or was he more than that? Was it even truly possible?

Another memory filtered to the surface of a scene in a restaurant with a huge green alien pig creature and a small waitress he was trying to kill. A voice cried out "Are you a Jedi or aren't you?!" And then he heard his own voice, clear as a bell respond, "I am a Jedi, and this is what we do."

"Indeed, young one." Came Yoda's response, and Travis then realized to his own surprise he had spoken those words aloud.

Suddenly, the memories of his training in the temple on Coruscant under Master Eddal unlocked and began rushing into his conscious mind like a flood, and he was aware. It was like waking up from a long sleep.

Surrendering himself to the Force as he had been taught, he closed his eyes and time slowed down again as he began to focus and become aware of the living energy field around him. It surrounded him, his companions, the shuttle, and extended out into space surrounding the three vessels trying to destroy each other. One of which wasn't far from the edge of the planet's atmosphere. He could feel the tug of gravity through the Force, and he reached out to the Force directing the waves of living energy around the port side Klingon attacker to harness the battlecruiser. He then focused on tugging the cruiser towards the planet.

Trip watched Travis stretch out his hand like he had in the gym towards the weights on the floor. "Travis, what the hell are you doing?" And then he realized what the helmsman was attempting. "That's impossible, Travis. That's no twenty kilo gym weight you're messing around with!"

"Only different in your mind, Commander." Yoda told him calmly.

"Does someone want to fill me in one what's happening here?" Shepherd asked.

He could not see what was happening, but he could feel it through the Force. The cruiser began to move as he reached out and pulled it towards the shuttlepod's position at the edge of atmosphere. He could feel the panic of his counterpart helmsman on the battlecruiser as he tried to correct the ship's position, and then the anger and fear of the other Klingon crewmen as the ship's engines tried desperately to fight against the pull of the field of energy their ship's sensors couldn't detect to no effect.

"Holy Mary..." Trip exclaimed as he watched the Klingon cruiser begin to move away from the battered Starfleet ship and towards the planet.

Travis poured his concern for his crew mates into the Force, feeding the energy field with the strongest of his positive emotions in defense of his friends and surrogate family. The energy field responded by wrenching the battlecruiser away from its previous position more violently as it began to hurtle uncontrolled towards the shuttlepod, it's powerful engines powerless to stop it. Travis then sensed the cruiser pass directly under the shuttlepod.

"I don't believe it." Trip said, dumbfounded.

"Is someone going to tell me what's going on or not?" Shepherd demanded in frustration.

"A powerful ally is the Force… A powerful ally." Yoda said quietly.

"I'm not sure I know myself, Colonel." Trip responded to Shepherd, his voice filled with amazement.

Soon, the hull of the ship began to glow as it scraped atmosphere and it lost all hope of recovery as it became a fireball high in the sky over the deserted world. It then slammed into the infernal desert, somewhere far south of the settlement they had just escaped from. It felt cold and hollow as he felt each of the lives of the Klingon crewmen snuffed out in the wreckage, and, feeling their pain and despair, he silently mourned their deaths as their living energy too returned and was absorbed by the greater Cosmic Force.

Sensing the Klingon's ship's final destruction Travis opened his eyes to observe the new scene in front of him as _Enterprise's_ weapons now concentrated all of their firepower on the other ship which had been attacking from her starboard.

Through the Force, Travis could feel the Klingon captain's confusion and a newfound respect for whatever unseen weapon that had brought down his sister ship. Travis sought to magnify that, hopefully planting the strong suggestion that a tactical retreat was in order. He then watched as the other Klingon attacker broke off their attack, moved off, and then disappeared as it jumped to warp.

The _Enterprise_ was still intact, worse the wear, but intact.

Travis then contacted the bridge, "Shuttlepod one to _Enterprise_."

After a minute, he heard his captain's voice reply, "Go ahead, Travis. You fellows alright out there?"

"I was going to ask the same question, Captain. We're fine, requesting permission to dock." Travis responded. Exhaustion began to creep into his voice as the strain of what he had done began to show itself.

"Permission granted. We're pretty banged up, lots of injuries, but by some miracle no casualties reported. I need my chief engineer back on board as soon as possible to assess the damage to the warp engines." Archer responded, the relief in his voice evident.

He then asked, "Any idea what happened to the Klingons? It looked like they just all of a sudden took a belly flop towards the planet's surface for no apparent reason."

Travis wasn't sure how to respond, especially if the channel was open to the rest of the bridge. He finally settled on, "I may need to talk to you about it in private, Captain."

There was a pause for about thirty seconds. Then Archer responded, "Understood. See you on board. Archer out."

"That's going to be some report, Travis." Trip quipped. "Hell, I watched the whole thing and I'm still not sure I believe it."

Sitting at his desk, Wilson was angry as the technicians reported their failure to him yet again. The incompetent fools were supposed to be the best and brightest Starfleet had to offer and yet they couldn't even get an antique computer interface working. The damn thing had been designed before the turn of the twenty-first century. It couldn't have been that complex.

Instead of trying to dissipate the anger as he normally would, under the guidance of the glowing red pyramid on his desk he instead used it to fuel a kind of meditation practice the device had taught him.

It made him feel powerful. More than that, it made him aware. Through his anger he started to be able to sense things he never could before. The new focus his anger brought him allowed him to sense when someone was in the room next to him, and then as he concentrated, when they were in the hallway. He knew what someone was feeling, whether they were frustrated or upset, whether they liked what the mess hall was serving for breakfast that day, and he could also sense the frustrations of the technicians that worked for him.

They really had no idea why it wasn't working. He could feel their certainty that they had followed the blueprints and diagrams with nanoprecision. He could feel their frustration at having to dissect the innards of the dialing hardware yet another time.

It didn't make sense. It was almost as if someone was intentionally sabotaging their efforts...

As he dwelt on that, he became more and more convinced that the idea was somehow right. Impossible for all the precautions he had taken, but right nonetheless.

It was impossible because Wilson had personally vetted all of the personnel working in the underground base. None of them would have betrayed Starfleet or Earth before giving their very lives for them. There couldn't be an alien sleeper mole among them. He had DNA scanned all of them himself. They were all verified as human beings from Earth.

He allowed himself to become frustrated at this, and the frustration fed his anger. This in turn fed his awareness as he used its ever expanding scope to search among his people for the saboteur he was convinced existed somewhere in the base. But all he met were the presences of his own loyal Starfleet people.

Nevertheless he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a saboteur. And the pyramid had been continuously instructing him to trust his instincts as well as his stronger, negative emotions.

He swore that he would find whoever it was and "have a word with him."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Captain's Log: July 1st, 2159

 _After answering a distress call from a remote planet, the Enterprise has taken on four more passengers. They claim to be descendants of what was a highly classified space exploration and defense program run by the old United States government called the "Stargate Program". Their leader, Colonel Ronan Shepherd, claims those involved with the program left Earth towards the beginning of the Eugenics Wars in the mid twenty first century through an alien device called a "stargate" which I am told allows nearly instantaneous travel between two points in space through the creation of stable, artificial wormholes. This team claims to be from a colony established in a base called "Atlantis" somewhere in the Pegasus Galaxy. They arrived through one of these stargates which had been established on the planet below. I am told their mission was to attempt contact with Earth to determine what happened with us after their original base and stargate located there was subject to a nuclear attack during the war._

 _While attempting to assist this team with making contact with their home, the Enterprise came under attack by two Klingon battle cruisers that entered the system. At the same time, our away team also came under attack by a group of five Klingons on the planet. I'm not sure I believe the report my officers gave me as to how they and this ship survived both encounters, but what they tell me is too fantastic to have been made up. Suffice it to say that after heavy combat one Klingon vessel was destroyed and the other one retreated. I'm told the Klingons on the planet took heavy casualties inflicted by my helmsman._

 _The Enterprise suffered major damage during the fight. I am still waiting on my chief engineer's report on the full extant of the damage, and when we will be able to get under way again._

"Well..." Trip drew in a breath and blew it out, scratching the back of his dark blond head as he prepared to give his captain his assessment. He'd been up all night pouring over the data and reports from his own people for hours, even getting a good extra-vehicular view of the damage to the port nacelle. Now he stood in front of his captain's desk in his ready room, feeling a little like being called to the principal's office without having done anything wrong himself.

"How bad is it, Trip?" Archer asked him point blank.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first, Captain?" His chief engineer asked.

"Good news is always welcome." The captain responded from where he sat at his desk, himself looking over the sensor data from the recent engagement, still trying to make sense of it.

"The good news is that the port side warp coil is still intact and looks to be structurally sound. I can have the nacelle patched up and serviceable to warp three in about a day or so. I've already got my people on it."

"And the bad news, Trip?" Archer pressed him.

Commander Tucker let out another slow breath again. "We took an awful lot of damage in the wrong places, sir. Those Klingons really gave us a pounding. I haven't seen it this bad since the Xindi mission." He told his captain. "Two of the port side phase cannons are destroyed. There are hull breaches in a dozen bad places around the saucer. All that's fixable either here or in drydock back at Earth. But our real problem is that the antimatter storage units were damaged during the battle. Ensign Davis ejected them into space before they lost magnetic containment altogether. I would have done the same under the circumstances but it still leaves us in a bind. Right now we're keeping the lights on by means of back up generators, but we can't generate plasma for the warp nacelles without antimatter. I can patch up our engine, sir, but we're running on empty and need gas in a bad way, so to speak."

"We can't go anywhere because we're out of gas?" Archer repeated.

"Yes, sir. I can try to jury rig something to convert some of the deuterium we've still got into its mirror image, but that might take a little longer. I'll probably need T'Pol's help on some of it." Trip told him.

Archer thought for a minute, then added, "See if our new friends from Atlantis might have some tricks up their sleeve as well. That Dr. McKay seems pretty sharp, and correct me if I'm wrong but they claim to have experience with technologies that are still light years ahead of ours. If we're not getting back to Earth without antimatter then neither are they."

"Uh… yes, sir." Trip said, a little unsure.

"Problem, Trip?" Archer asked.

"It's just that that McKay gal… she's kind of a piece of work herself." Trip responded.

"Noted. But she still may know a few things we don't that could help us get moving again." His captain answered.

"Yes, sir. I'll get started on it right away." Commander Tucker answered and then made to leave.

"One more thing, Trip." Archer said, holding him up.

Trip stopped in front of the door, his hand reaching for the switch to open it. He then turned around, "Yeah, what's up?"

"What really happened out there last night?" He asked.

"Sir? What do you mean?" Trip responded, confused.

"I mean, Klingon warships don't just fall out of orbit and take a nose dive into atmosphere. Travis told me he suddenly got his memories back and used the Force to drag it down. Besides Travis, you've spent more time around Yoda than anyone else. What did you see? Do you think that's what happened, or did our other guest have anything to do with it?" Archer explained.

"I don't really know, Captain. Truth is, the possibility that anyone could pull a thousand metric tons of starship and drag it anywhere just by thinking about it scares the hell out of me." Trip told him honestly. "I was kind of out of it from the heat to begin with, but from what I saw, the little green guy wasn't doing anything like closing his eyes or concentrating or anything that I've seen him or Travis do when they do that Force stuff when it was going on."

"What about on the planet?" Archer pressed.

"One minute Travis and Yoda were behind Ronan and I, the next, there was Klingons and Klingon blood everywhere on the ground and Travis was shouting at us to keep up and get in the shuttlepod. I'd never seen anything like it." Trip told him.

Archer considered that information. "That's an awful lot of power for any one person to have control over." He finally said. "Wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah it is." Trip agreed in a serious tone of voice. "Y'know, there used to be a whole religious order of these kinds of people that kept each other in check and took out the bad ones." He said. "Yoda was talking like those bad ones might be making a reappearance the other day. I got the gist that's the reason why he wanted Travis to remember and relearn it so badly."

"The lieutenant's a good man." Archer observed. "I can't see him using this kind of ability for anything other than helping people."

"Yeah, I agree, Captain. But..." Trip began.

"But from what we saw of those bad ones," Archer picked it up, "the Sith, from those movies, if they were anywhere near accurate; imagine if just one of them who had the same abilities that Travis just demonstrated was let loose on Earth or in the rest of our little corner of the galaxy today with no one to keep them in check." Archer said, the concern on his face growing, then more so as a new thought struck him. "Imagine if it was someone already in a position of authority or influence."

"Yeah. Klingons would be the least of our worries. I think I understand now why Yoda came back. But then, why doesn't he just deal with the problem himself? Why go to all this trouble to bother Travis with it?" Trip asked.

"More questions to answer." Archer observed, his hands unintentionally clasped together on his desk in what could be considered a gesture of prayer.

"For eight hundred years, did I train Jedi. Progressed much in a short time you have. More open to the Force than most Jedi I have trained you are. Done well you have. One thing more need you, and then complete will be your training." Yoda told Travis solemnly.

They were sitting in the lieutenant's quarters. Travis had asked the Captain for the morning off in order to "figure some stuff out" after he had delivered his report on the events of the night before. Under the circumstances, the captain agreed without hesitation. Travis hated to be away from the ship's helm, which was where he still felt he truly belonged, but he couldn't ignore the choice he had made on the shuttlepod. The choice to accept what he was, and all the responsibility that held.

"What is that, Master Yoda?" Travis asked as he sat calmly, cross legged on the floor. Yoda sat in the same position on Travis's bunk in front of him.

From within the folds of his robe, Yoda withdrew a bag that looked large for him which jingled and clanked. He opened the bag, and through the Force allowed the contents to carefully and gently spill onto the floor in front of Travis.

Among the disparate pieces, there was a cylindrical tube, a small piece of what looked to Travis like crystallized dilithium (but too small to be useful in the warp reactor he knew), some small disks of transparent aluminum, what looked like a rechargeable power source from a phase pistol, and various other pieces of electronics.

Travis studied the pieces, trying to understand what this new test was. His eye was drawn to the cylinder. He picked it up. It was hollow on the inside. It looked like a short piece of fixed conduit; no more than twenty centimeters long and about four in diameter. Just the right size to fit in his hand. What did it remind him of?

Then he knew.

"A lightsaber." He pronounced solemnly. "You want me to build a lightsaber."

"A proper weapon a Jedi needs, yes?" Yoda confirmed for him.

He wanted to ask how the Jedi Master had acquired all of these parts without anyone missing them, especially the dilithium, but then thought better of it. If Grand Master Yoda wanted to filch some supplies, he doubted there was anyone on board who could have seen him do it, and most people might have just seen a bag of junk anyway.

"But Master Eddal never taught me how back in the Temple." Travis protested.

"Hmmph." Yoda retorted. "And know nothing about it do I, hmm?"

"Sorry. You're right." Travis checked himself, forcefully reminded again that this was _the_ Jedi Grand Master. "Where do I begin?"

"You know, this would be a lot simpler if this was a hyperspace generator." Jennifer McKay said for the fifth time in the last hour. "I could just hook the Z.P.M. into it and we'd be at Earth by now."

"Yep." Came Trip's response through clenched teeth. "I believe it."

He and T'Pol had been working with the Atlantis scientist through the last hour of the morning in _Enterprise's_ engine room, and while the woman was indeed brilliant, and did have some amazing insights which even his Vulcan companion hadn't ever thought possible, the woman could be so insufferable, he still felt it would have been more comfortable working with a Klingon on a bad day than the younger, attractive blond scientist in front of him.

"I mean really, why didn't you people just stay with the hyperspace and naquida technology we left behind?" She asked. "You could have avoided having to use antimatter at all."

"Well, we didn't really have a choice seeing as your ancestors weren't exactly open and up front with the rest of the world about its existence now did we?" Trip retorted as pleasantly as he could. "And as for this naquida stuff, I only heard about it the first time today from you. Considering that we're twelve light years out from Earth, I think we did alright without your people's help." Trip's voice began to show his frustration.

T'Pol jumped in. "And yet we do appreciate your continued assistance in this matter, Dr. McKay." She told the woman, putting a hand on the chief engineer's arm trying to ward off his flaring temper.

"Yeah, I can see that." The Atlantis scientist responded dryly, turning her attention back to the matter at hand. "It just seems like such an inefficient design." She said, not quite under her breath. "It's not like there's a huge quantity of antimatter just floating out there in case you run out."

"Well, it was never a problem before." Trip responded. "We don't normally have to carry carry a whole damn charge reversal production facility on board."

"Vulcan ships don't have the capacity to convert normal matter to antimatter either. The technology still requires extensive facilities and power requirements." T'Pol added.

A diagram of one of those facilities was up on the display screen of the computer they were standing in front of, and McKay went back to it looking it over again. "It looks like it still uses the same basic principles as one of the old particle accelerators Earth used to have."

"Yeah, it's a thousand times more efficient, but it's basically the same idea." Trip affirmed. "Problem is that we just don't have the kilometer or so of space they do to set one up here in engineering, not to mention the power requirements to do it. We're doing good right now with the lights and computers running off the back-up generators."

"I'm pretty sure we can handle the power requirements with the Z.P.M." McKay said somewhat patronizingly. "If only there was a way to shrink down the distance needed to accelerate the particles..." She continued to stare at the screen.

The last few minutes of conversation played back through Trip's mind, and something clicked. "Y'know, we field tested a hyperspace engine about a year ago." He said without any warning.

Dr. McKay looked away from the screen in surprise. "You did?"

"Commander, that's classified information." T'Pol reminded him quietly.

But the chief engineer kept going, "Starfleet wouldn't tell us everything there was to know about who came up with it. Not even the Captain. They wouldn't even give me the schematics for it or its power source it was so hush, hush. I'll bet dollars to donuts it came from someone running across the plans from your ancestors."

"Did the test fail?" McKay asked, surprised.

"No, the engine worked just fine right up until we tried running the warp engines through a hyperspace window. That's when everything went sideways." After a minute's pause trying to decide how much to say about the rest of it, he then settled with, "suffice it to say, after that the experiment was deemed a failure and Starfleet pulled the hyperspace generator back out of the _Enterprise_."

"What do you mean it went 'sideways'?" She pressed, not understanding.

"It's not important at the moment. But my thought was that if someone back at Starfleet command got those plans from your people's research, then there's a good bet they've got more than that. And I'm just wondering, where would they have gotten all that information from? Where would your ancestors have stored all of it?" Trip asked.

"Well, the whole database on Atlantis was too big for any of the computers of that time period to handle. But outside of the city, the next largest cache would have been the base computers and libraries at Stargate Command under Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado in North America. But the last we heard of it, it had been nuked and the Stargate was presumed buried under a mountain of rock." She responded.

"When was the last time your people tried to call home?" Trip asked bluntly.

McKay's face took on a look of comprehension as she followed his train of thought. "My grandparents tried it last. It's been decades at least." She replied.

"Commander, perhaps we should discuss this with Captain Archer." T'Pol attempted to break in again. "Unless our present problem is resolved, the Stargate on the planet below will be our only means of leaving this system."

"Right." Trip agreed. "So, whatcha think?" He asked McKay.

"I think we can come up with something." She said, returning to the computer display, but her tone of voice and demeanor lacked a certainty as to which subject to which she was referring.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Klag sat cross legged in the ancient sandstone house staring out into the east of the warm desert night. Anyone observing him might have been forgiven for thinking he was meditating with his eyes open. The truth was he could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes the image of the human demon appeared, its eyes burning red at the gates of Grethor, beckoning him to enter into eternal torment. There would be no Stovokor for him.

He hadn't bothered praying to Kahless to help him. Either the Emperor had abandoned him, or else he would expect him to survive on his own. Either Klag was Klingon or he was not.

He had no technology with him. The ritual had demanded that they go into the desert without it. The only piece of modern equipment they had was Velker's disruptor, and he wasn't technically supposed to be carrying it. He paid the price for that mistake.

Out in the ancient stone plaza in the center of the abandoned village, his commanding officer's body lay still. His last breath had been taken before both suns had set and the warrior's spirit had left. He had respected Velker. He was a good warrior and a better drinker. He hoped his spirit had escaped the human demon's grasp and had made it into the halls of Kahless.

Not like him. He wouldn't die in combat. He wouldn't die fighting for the Empire or in defense of his family. He would dehydrate on this waterless world until his body shut down and only the dry husk remained.

He had nothing to eat, and only had hat little water that remained in the canteens from the bodies of his comrades. If he had to, he might be able to eat the flesh from the bodies, but they would rot in the heat beyond use before that became a necessity.

It had been a long, difficult week of fasting and testing in the desert for all of them. The sandworms, undetectable as life forms on any scanner, could be the most treacherous. You had to learn to trust your senses and your instincts, or they would come up from underneath you while you were meditating and you would never open your eyes again.

The five of them had just completed the final cleansing ritual on this sacred world before entering the priesthood of their people when they encountered the human trespassers. The tera'nganpu' had no right to be there. His commanding officer warned the humans with good reason. The tera'nganpu' needed to be sent a message to stay away from this world. After that… It wasn't like humans to shoot first that he had heard of. Velker was justified in defending himself against the black suited one with the archaic weapon.

The first rays of dawn began to appear in the east as he continued to wait. Although his instincts told him there would be no shuttle coming to retrieve him, not after the fireball he saw fall at

true dusk the day before. Somehow the Fek'lhr had brought down the vessel from the very heavens, he and Mortag were certain of it.

Mortag, his other living companion had left last night to attempt to find where it had gone down, believing there might be supplies still intact, if not survivors. Klag had tried to warn him that it was a fool's errand.

"The wind doesn't respect a fool, Mortag," Klag had told him, reminding him of the words of Kahless, "Neither do the desert worms." He had added.

"We shall see, Klag. Better to die on my feet as a Klingon rather than waste away in this village of ghosts." This had been Mortag's response.

They both should have been on their way to Borath for their initiation as acolytes of the priesthood by now. But it appears Grethor had other ideas in mind for them. Or perhaps this was Kahless's way of telling them they weren't fit for the priesthood. Either way, the result was the same. They would both die without honor in this place. The desert had judged them and found them unworthy. Even the human Fek'lhr found them not worth the trouble to kill.

But why were the humans and their strange little green imp pet there at all? This was a question that kept going through his mind. There had been nothing on this world that had ever drawn the attention of any other race except his own before now, at least not that he had been told of.

No one knew how old the ruins were, but it was only a collection of structures built to withstand the ravages of time and sand storms. It had been obvious that those who built it did so on the bedrock outcropping so that the inhabitants would remain undisturbed by the desert worms that couldn't penetrate it. There was no obvious technology or weapons to be gained from here. There was the great ring with its strange symbols carved into it on the west side of the village, but he had been told it was only an ancient ceremonial site of "undetermined use."

The humans had been coming through the village from the west side though. After the loss of his fellow initiates, it hadn't occurred to him before to investigate why the tera'nganpu' had been there in the first place. Perhaps it did have something to do with the great ring after all?

Perhaps he would not just sit here and die after all, he decided. Perhaps he would at least find out why the humans invaded their sacred training ground, and how to avenge his comrades.

"tlingan jiH." I am Klingon, he said flatly to any demon or spirit who was listening, making his decision. He rose to his feet and in the first rays of dawn, walked with purpose towards the mysterious artifact.

Wilson stood staring at the stargate in front of him, allowing its inactive state to anger him, and then using that anger to drive his focus. The red holocron had taught him much in the last few days about the uses of anger, fear, and the other stronger emotions. They had pushed out his awareness of the living energy around him until it encompassed the whole underground base.

He could feel the discomfort his presence caused to the technicians around him.

 _Good._ He thought to himself. It makes them focus more, and their fear feeds my atunement to the Force. He needed that atunement now if he was going to find the saboteur. But so far, he was having no success among his people in the base. Either whoever it may be was exceptionally gifted at hiding his feelings and thoughts, or else there was no saboteur and the machine really was more complex than his people could handle.

Wilson stared at the symbols on the gate. From what he had read, each symbol represented both a star constellation and a sound like a syllabary, though the latter function was rarely used according to the database.

He focused harder, trying to listen to what the midichlorians in his bloodstream had to tell him. He had no idea what their concentration was, or how sensitive to the Force he might be through them, but the holocron continued to attempt to teach him things.

It came time for the technicians to beam back to there work camp on the surface, and the men and women around him began to disappear as he continued to stand there and focus. One by one he could feel each person leave his field of awareness until they had all left…

Except there was still one remaining. Wilson could feel the man's presence, but didn't know who he was.

"It's time to head back to the surface." He said out loud without turning around. "Time to get some sleep and get a fresh start on the gate tomorrow."

Surprise rippled through the Force, and Wilson felt the tremor. He turned around to face the man, except there was no one there. And then the presence he had felt was gone.

"What?" He asked aloud into the empty gate room. "What was that?"

Recovering from his loss of focus, he attempted to relax himself and stretch out his awareness again, but there was no one immediately there, and he couldn't encompass the whole facility again. But he knew what he had felt.

Someone had been there. Specifically a man had been there, invisible and undetectable by anything except the Force.

He knew two things for certain as of that moment. He had found his saboteur, and learning from the holocron was no longer just a pleasant diversion.

He lingered for a moment longer, and then, believing he was alone, made to return to his office. As he turned to walk through the great, ancient steel door and back up to his own office, all of a sudden he heard metal scraping against metal.

Quickly he turned back towards the gate to see the red crystal chevrons light up. A great whirlpool whooshed out three meters from the inner ring and then almost as quickly was sucked back in to leave what looked like a glowing blue puddle of water that was briefly, almost imperceptibly, broken by a minor ripple. And then the stargate died again.

"I think the technicians will be far more productive come tomorrow." Wilson told himself.

Twelve light years away, Klag emerged from the collection of structures to set his eyes on the ancient metal ring for the second time. It had been of little interest except as an archaeological curiosity to his group of initiates when they had arrived, but now as he gazed upon it it was of decidedly more interest to him.

As he approached the upright circle and its pedestal monument, he could see that the tera'nganpu' had taken a keen interest in the device which was now surrounded by leftover equipment and some kind of robotic wheeled vehicle that appeared to be unarmed that he could see.

But what were they doing here? And why did they take such an interest in this thing?

Klag wasn't a scientist. He had trained, like every Klingon, as a warrior from the time he was small. Serving on various ships, he fought as well as any other warrior, better than some even, at least according to himself. But within the last year he thought he had felt the call of Kahless upon his life to a higher purpose in his service. That was why he had chosen to come here and prove himself worthy of the Emperor.

He began to rifle through the bags and boxes which the humans had left behind. He had little idea of what all of the equipment was for as he searched through the containers for something which might tell him what the humans wanted, but it was mostly discarded supplies; some food and water rations, computer devices with words in the strange, blocky human script, and of course the wheeled robot.

Klag gathered up the supplies and some of the portable technology into one of the black bags and turned to take it back to the structure which had been his shelter, out of the light of the rising suns, to try and figure it out. He was no scientist, but neither was he uneducated like some of the petaqmey he had served with. His father had seen to it that he could fight with his mind as well as his arm and it had served him well in the past. He would put it to use again. Perhaps he would find a way to create a distress beacon and tell the empire of the violation the humans had committed here. Then, even if he died here, he could die serving the empire and face Kahless with his honor intact.

Just then he heard the scraping of metal against metal and turned around to face the ring. It was spinning. The chevrons around the ring were glowing red. Certainly no Klingon had ever seen it do this before?

As he watched it, a great funnel of water whooshed out of the ring and then was sucked back in leaving only the strange sight of a bright blue puddle of water on its side covering the previously empty and hollow center of the ring.

"By Kahless!" He exclaimed in his own language, but held his ground refusing to yield to the demon of fear again. "tlingan jiH." He said again. And then it became his war cry against whatever spirits were trying to break his own.

"TLINGAN JIH!" He thundered at the ring.

A strange collection of lights came out of the water in the ring and moved like a single being. It stopped and appeared to be… watching? Listening? Klag didn't know, but the thing felt alive.

"I am Klingon! I do not fear you Fek'lhr!" He roared at what could only be a spirit, whether from Stovokor or Grethor he did not know.

Klag watched as the lights seemed to turn in his direction and… were they studying him? "I am Klingon." He repeated, and took the handle of the blade which had hung at his side and drew it. "I fear nothing." He steadied himself for the spirit's attack.

Suddenly, a pool of clear liquid rose out of the rock at his feet and widened to nearly two meters across, and up past his ankles soaking his boots. He quickly jumped out of the rising pool, and then looked back at the lights in confusion.

The lights then turned from Klag and rose up into the sky towards the stars which had all but disappeared for the domination of the twin suns. Klag lost sight of the spirit, and then the great ring went silent and as dark again as it was before.

He knelt down to touch the liquid, bringing his wet fingers up to his nose as he smelled it. It was odorless. He put his tongue out. It was water. Cool, clear, clean water.

Unable to help himself he plunged his face down into it and drew long and hard bringing the life giving liquid into his parched body. The pool had expanded and grown to such an extent that even with the heat and evaporation, he knew, the pool would last for a few days at least.

Kahless had sent him a sign. Klag believed he understood.

He still had work to do.

Travis remain motionless as he sat on the floor of his quarters, his eyes closed. Levitating in front of him, a cylindrical tube was being paired with lenses and other electronic components. Some of which he had known the function of beforehand, some of which he hadn't. On the opposite side of the floating components sat the aged Jedi Master, equally engaged in concentration together with his student.

Travis felt the Force around him and he made it his goal to trust its lead in connecting the seemingly disparate components. His mind had no idea how they were supposed to fit together, and so he abandoned his conscious thought for a deeper awareness of their capabilities and functions that the midichlorians in his bloodstream were calling him to.

"An extension of the Jedi is his blade." Yoda had instructed. "A reflection of the Jedi's mind and personality it is."

Travis had always felt his most comfortable and needed at the helm of a starship. It was only appropriate then that the pieces for his saber were cobbled together from the same ship he had served and been devoted to. Like the _Enterprise_ around him, the beating heart of the lightsaber would be the dilithium crystal which would produce the recirculating plasma beam within the forcefields that would contain it.

Once again, time seemed to stand still for him as he felt himself surrounded by the living energy that was the Force. The Force itself was eternal and timeless, and the more he gave himself over to it, the more he understood not only his own connection to it, but to all living things through it. He was such a very small part of it, yet no less important than any other which had a part to play in the great system of life.

Piece joined to piece, connection to connection, slowly the saber's hilt came together the Force welding and soldering it all together. Finally the last piece was placed and the weapon was finished. Travis searched through it for imperfections, but couldn't find any.

"Good." Yoda murmured from opposite him. "Good. A fine weapon it will be."

The completed lightsaber then lowered to the floor, and slowly Travis opened his eyes to see what he had already felt through the Force.

"I did it." He said quietly, with some surprise. "Wow. Master Yoda, look at it." He couldn't help it, the awe of what he had accomplished seeped into his voice.

Yoda didn't answer. Travis looked up to his master, but the aged Jedi hadn't opened his own green eyes yet. Instead he looked like he had been locked in deep concentration, his face growing more concerned.

"Master Yoda?" Travis asked.

"Master Yoda?" The familiar voice called out to him through the Force. "Do you remember me?"

"Remember your voice I do, Daniel Jackson, though hazy much of my memory is. So much had to be given up to take this form again." Yoda replied in the same manner. "Not much time left do I have."

"I know my friend." Daniel responded. "Do you remember why you took this form?"

"Yes. … Yes, I do. Wilson and the holocrons. Contained he is for the moment?" Yoda asked.

"Master Yoda, we may have a problem." Daniel told him. "He felt my presence through the Force. I risk the Others casting me out again if I continue to interfere. I had to use the stargate in his presence to reach you here. He knows now that it still works and that somehow I was sabotaging it."

"A matter of time it was." Yoda responded sagely. "Almost ready this one is. A stargate below us is."

"Yeah, about that… there's still one Klingon warrior down there trying to figure out what you're doing here. He's not going to be able to use it without showing him how it works." Daniel responded.

"The Force the gate requires to use. The Klingon is no issue, though wrong it might be to leave him just stranded there without food or water. Speak to the captain I should." Yoda remarked.

"I took care of his water situation, and he's got the Atlantis team's extra rations for a few days. But this whole thing is beginning to blow out of control. The ship that fled the other night is now reporting in to the Klingon High Command. They're telling them that humans from Earth have desecrated a sacred training ground. That's more than enough justification for them to start a war with Earth." Daniel told him.

"Deal with that we can quietly." Yoda said calmly. "The wiser the Others do not need to be. Soon, through the gate young Travis must go and stop Wilson."

Daniel then paused. "Damn." He then swore. "It may have to be sooner than either of us planned, Master Jedi. Wilson's going to kill the workers by the end of tomorrow once they have the gate computers and dialing mechanism up and running."

"Will they?" Yoda asked point blank.

"There's nothing to stop them now." Daniel responded.

"Then ready my padawan must be." Yoda told him.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Captain's Log: July 2nd, 2159

 _Our port warp nacelle is undergoing repairs. I'm told it should be ready for warp travel by tomorrow. Our more pressing concern at the moment is the need for antimatter. Our own storage pods had been damaged and had to be ejected during the recent battle with the Klingon ships. Commanders Tucker and T'pol, and one of our new guests from the Atlantis team, a Doctor Jennifer McKay, believe they have come up with a way to generate enough antimatter to get us home. They are now in the process of testing their new "mobile" antimatter production unit using a zero point energy power source which Dr. McKay and her team brought with them. If it works, it would be a handy backup system to have on all the ships in the fleet._

 _I have been informed by Jedi Master Yoda that there is still one Klingon survivor left on the desert planet below us, and have been "encouraged" by him for humanitarian reasons to attempt to bring him aboard as well. To be honest, after all my dealings with Klingons, I'm almost more inclined to leave him down there, but then I have to believe this is what separates humans and Klingons. The Klingons would just leave him there to die. I don't know if I could live with that choice. At the same point in time, I'm not sure we could convince him to come with us short of stunning him unconscious and dragging him back to the ship._

Captain Archer ended his log and sat in his ready room that morning going over more reports and sipping his coffee from the ship's galley. The coffee was strong that morning, and somewhat bitter, much like some of the choices he was being asked to consider.

The little green Jedi Master had come to him late last night and informed him of the Klingon's plight. He didn't bother asking how Yoda knew of the survivor, and didn't question the accuracy of it either. He felt he knew better than that by now, but it did leave him with a moral and logistical dilemma he could have done without at the moment.

And then there was the somewhat cryptic request the Jedi Grand Master made, that Travis and he be allowed to head down to the surface with the retrieval team and venture through the stargate alone.

"Can you at least tell me what for?" He had asked Yoda.

The Master Jedi didn't answer for a moment, but instead closed his eyes and leaned forward on his cane, and Archer could tell he was deciding how much he could or should say. It was as though Yoda was trying to balance the gravity of the situation with a captain's right to know what was happening, and the Jedi Master understood Archer's position as well as his own.

"Much I could say," He began his explanation, but he didn't look up. "But dangerous could be the explanation for you and your crew."

"Does it have to do with the Sith rising again?" Archer asked, remembering what Travis and Trip had both reported to him from their own conversations with Yoda.

Yoda didn't even bother acting surprised. There would be no point. "Yes." He finally said. "A Jedi is needed, not a Starfleet officer. But if more than this I reveal, at great risk and in a difficult position I place you. If, however, ask this I do not, at great risk and in grave danger your whole galaxy do I place, and not just your corner of it. Stop it now we must, but alone I cannot. Your helmsman you can do without for a short time. My apprentice I cannot with this."

This last humble admission from a being who, by all accounts, was one of the most powerful Jedi practitioners that had ever lived was what had truly caught Archer off guard and had swayed him to the seriousness of the situation.

"I'll consider it." He finally told him, and Yoda nodded his acceptance of Archer's answer.

He hadn't slept well afterwards that night either. Five hours (or was it four?) was bad enough, but then the dreams came as well. He might have called them nightmares at one time except, in his tenure as captain of the _Enterprise,_ he had seen and experienced far more terrifying scenarios than his dreams ever put him through. But still, they were disturbing nonetheless. They had been filled with a somewhat familiar man dressed in black with some kind of black body armor. He was always in the shadows, and you could never quite see him directly but only out of the corner of your eye. In his dreams, the man was speaking at the United Earth lectern to a standing ovation flanked by heavily armed soldiers. Behind him, the United Earth flag burned. Next he saw his ship in flames, and much of his crew dead. They only got worse from there. Throughout his dreams it felt cold, dark, and hopeless.

He shuddered, trying to push the memory of them out of his mind as he focused on the data tablet in front of him. He took another sip of his coffee.

 _Do I have any real options in either matter?_ He questioned himself over and over again. I _s it really "the Force" at work, and is it giving me a choice?_ He didn't know, and he didn't like that he didn't know. It was the same kind of question as "does a deity exist and does that deity really govern the course of our lives?" Except that it was always just a theoretical question before, and one he felt he could safely keep a theoretically open mind on. Now, the situation they found themselves in was forcing him to make a decision on it.

He couldn't deny the things he had seen the Jedi able to accomplish through the Force, and they were both awesome and terrifying displays of ability and power at the same time. He was a rational man, and something of a scientist in his own right, and when there is evidence to back up a hypothesis, then that hypothesis must be taken seriously. And he had personally witnessed verifiable evidence for the Force in spades.

And now he was being asked to trust it and those who were called to interpret its will.

His tall metal coffee mug was just about half empty when the door chime to his ready room went off.

"Enter." He called out.

His helmsman stepped through the door. "You asked for me, sir?"

There was something different about Travis as he stood relaxed, but somewhat formal in front of Archer's desk. He seemed calmer, more at peace with himself than he had been in a long time his captain noticed. Then Archer's eye caught a familiar looking, twenty centimeter cylinder shaped bulge from the right side hip pocket of his helmsman's blue Starfleet uniform. It didn't take him long to realize what it might be.

"So, may I see it, lieutenant?" Archer asked, pointing at the bulge.

Travis didn't bother asking what, his instincts already told him what the captain was referring to as he unzipped the pocket on his coverall and brought out the newly fashioned yet ancient weapon and held the unactivated hilt in the palm of his open hand.

Archer made no move to take it, but instead stood up from his chair and moved to inspect it briefly as the helmsman held it. He nodded wordlessly, then gently closed his helmsman's fingers over it in a gesture of acceptance. Then, Travis returned the lightsaber to his pocket.

"Master Yoda helped me make it last night, sir." Travis told him. "He thought it would be fitting if it was made from the same materials as the _Enterprise_."

Archer nodded again in agreement. He then asked, "So you've come to accept this as your role again?" His tone was probing.

Travis paused, and then said with a certainty, "Yes, sir. It feels like the right thing to do, at least for now. It's like when I'm at the ship's controls. It just feels right, like I'm where I belong, and being who I was meant to be."

Archer nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Yoda made a request last night. He asked to be able to take you through the stargate device below us. He didn't say where, and couldn't tell me the details of why. But he seemed pretty convinced that he needed you, and that we would all be in danger unless I allowed it. Before I make a decision either way, I need to know where you stand. Do you trust Yoda? Do you think you're ready for something like this?" Given the abilities Travis so recently demonstrated, Archer felt almost silly asking it, but he felt he had to.

Travis took a moment to consider the captain's question. Then he answered, looking his captain straight in the eyes. "Yes, sir, I trust him if he says it needs to be done. But no, sir. I know I'm not ready for it if Yoda thinks it's that serious. But that's the point of being a Jedi. It's not really the Jedi doing anything. Commander Tucker kept asking me how I pulled that starship from orbit, but I didn't really do anything. The Force did. In a way, I just asked it kind of like a deep kind of prayer, and the Force and I worked together to make it happen. That's why size doesn't matter, because it's not the Jedi really doing any of the work except cooperating with the Force. So if I was going to go into it just myself, then no, I'm definitely not ready for any of it. But Yoda's right, the Force is a powerful, powerful ally if you cooperate with it. And with the Force as my ally, then yeah, I think we can do what needs to be done."

"Even against a Sith?" Archer pressed, remembering the kind of power a dark side user could wield.

"The Sith draw their connection to the Force through hatred, anger, and fear. These seem like really powerful emotions. But one think Master Eddal once taught me was that nothing is more powerful than love, and this is what connects the Jedi to the Force." Travis responded.

His helmsman's sagacity and growth over the last few days shouldn't have surprised Archer, but it somewhat did and he felt a little bit of familial pride in his officer like a son or a younger brother.

Archer nodded again. He then had one final question, "Do you want to do this, Travis? Do you want to go with him? I could order you to stay put and give you the excuse not to go."

"Sir, if it's really all of us at stake, could you stay behind?" Travis responded.

"No, I don't suppose I could." Archer responded. "Alright, as of this moment lieutenant, you're on temporary leave until you get back. Trip tells me we might be ready to go in a couple of days if the antimatter production unit works like they hope. I don't think we've heard the last of the Klingons that ran. You've got forty eight hours to make it back through the stargate and contact us. After that, I'm taking the ship on to Earth. Stay safe and good hunting."

"Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you, Captain." Travis responded, and then turned to leave.

"Oh, and Travis, one more thing." Archer said behind him.

Travis turned around, "sir?"

Archer smiled but said with some seriousness, "May the Force be with you, Jedi."

Travis returned the smile and said in response, "And also with you, Captain."

And then he left the ready room, and Archer wondered if he had made the right decision. _But then, did I really have a choice?_

Daniel didn't return to Earth after warning Yoda. He had already pushed it farther than he was supposed to, and now he himself had to trust that the mortals would be able to resolve the potential crisis on their own. Instead, he remained behind on the desert world to observe the stranded Klingon.

They were an interesting and contradictory people that reminded him a great deal of the Jaffa he had known in his previous life. If Archer and other people from Earth could only see the strength, and character in these warrior poets that he did, their loyalty to their honor, their families, and their empire, they might be able to relate to them through a common shared warrior culture that endured throughout Earth's history. He thought things might go differently between the two peoples if they would just give each other the chance.

This Klingon was more than he first appeared to be for the Starfleet officers as well. Truth was, Daniel kind of admired his tenacity, and his stubborn faith that refused to die even here. He wondered if he and Klag might have even become friends once upon a time just like he and Teal'c, the Jaffa who had become more than a brother to him.

Right now, Klag was in his shelter working on a way to build some kind of a communications device to contact his people out of the bits and pieces of electronics left behind by the Atlantis team. Never mind that Klag wasn't a scientist or an engineer, he intently studied the devices in front of him trying to teach himself how they worked and how he might use them. Daniel admired his stubborn refusal to give up and give in to his circumstances.

The real question would be whether or not Klag would accept the rescue from _Enterprise_. "Probably not." Daniel admitted to himself, but their stun weapons would allow them to retrieve him unharmed from this death trap of a planet.

The away team had just boarded the shuttlepod and would be back down on the surface within the hour, Daniel knew. Then he would see how things would actually play out.

And then things went sideways, and then horribly wrong.

"No." He expressed. "No, that wasn't supposed to happen yet. It's too soon."

Daniel had kept part of his attention still focused on the situation on Earth, and on Wilson. And the images he began to receive from there became very, very dark very quickly.

He left Klag where he was and began to move back towards the stargate. He had to stop it from happening!

And then it was like he had slammed into an invisible brick wall.

"What the?!" He exclaimed. And then realizing what was happening he said, "No, not now! Do you realize what's happening? What's going to happen?"

"You cannot interfere any more than you have already, Daniel Jackson. You more than anyone should understand the consequences of using your power as one of the ascended to influence mortal affairs." Came the voice of one of the Others. The voice was female, and somewhat motherly, and resonated with a slight Latin accent. "Or did your experiences with the Ori not impress the lesson on you that it should have? We are not gods to determine who is to live and who is to die."

To his own perceptions, in front of him materialized the form of a woman in her prime with long blond hair tied back in a thick braid wearing the white and tan dress which had been common to the Ancients. A name came to him, Uria, though he had rarely had dealings with her before.

"But innocent people are going to die!" He protested.

"Mortals die every day. The young, the old, the guilty and the innocent. It is not our place to either bring it about or to prevent it." Uria told him. "No matter how difficult watching it may be. I thought you had understood that from observing Earth's Eugenics Wars. They must solve these problems themselves, or there is no difference between ourselves and the Ori who made themselves into gods." Then her tone softened a bit as she said, "The ancient one whom you call Yoda has already made his choice to interfere and instruct the young helmsman again. Many of us are already concerned about the impact this will have on this galaxy. Please do not add to it. Turn aside from this, Daniel. You have always been a good and compassionate soul. But this cannot be your fight any longer. There would be disastrous consequences for everyone involved, including yourself."

Daniel paused, considering her words. He had observed the Eugenics Wars, and true to his word when he had ascended the last time, he had stayed out of it, watching the mass murder of millions of people in silent horror. He had all the power in the universe it seemed at his disposal, and yet he remained powerless to stop it.

But she was not wrong either. History and events had to be allowed to unfold. People had to be allowed to make their own mistakes, sometimes very costly ones. Empires had to be allowed both to rise, and to fall. People had to be able to choose for themselves whether they would be good or evil, light or dark. He couldn't make that choice for them, nor would he.

"I will not interfere." Daniel said, fighting with himself, but understanding her concerns.

"It is for the best." Uria responded.

"And Yoda?" Daniel asked, knowing the Jedi Master's mortal days were numbered. "Will he be allowed to rejoin us?"

"The ancient one has made his choice, and he must live with the consequences of it as must we all." She answered. "Whether or not he ascends again is up to the ancient one's own abilities, not ours." She told him. "Now, I bid you farewell, Daniel Jackson."

"Wait." Daniel said, stopping her from leaving. Something puzzled him.

"Yes?"

"You referred to Yoda several times now as 'the ancient one.' Why is that?" Daniel asked. The special title made no sense to him, as the vast majority of the ascended themselves all easily qualified for the title of "ancient".

"Were you not aware? Yoda, as you call him, was the first of us to learn to fully ascend many millions of Earth's years ago. He has truly been the most ancient and wisest of us all; at least until now." She answered.

And with that, she was gone, and the invisible barrier to the stargate was removed leaving Daniel alone with his own troubled thoughts.

Overhead, the _Enterprise's_ shuttlepod had entered the planet's atmosphere and was now making its descent towards the abandoned ruins. The pod's underside glowed against the heat of re-entry as it speeded towards the surface in a controlled flight which might have seemed impossible for the craft's boxy shape.

Captain Archer held onto the straps of his seat as the pod made it through the initial burn and continued its descent. Travis was at the pod's controls. Next to Archer sat Yoda on one side, and Lieutenant Hoshi Sato on the other, who was still better than the U.T. at understanding Klingon. Opposite them were two M.A.C.O.s in the event the Klingon attempted to avenge his comrades on his rescuers.

The Captain had come partly because if anyone was going to attempt to explain to the Klingon that they weren't going to kill him, and hopefully not take him prisoner either, then he would be the one to do it. Although in retrospect, he wondered if T'Pol wouldn't have made a more logical choice.

Next to him, the Jedi Grand Master sat in silence with his eyes closed. Whether he was meditating, attempting to commune with some unseen presence, or just trying to keep from losing his breakfast from the re-entry turbulance, Archer couldn't tell. Although, bad as it might sound, he was hoping for the lost breakfast theory. It seemed at least like something he could understand.

"Five minutes to the stargate." Travis reported after the external heat and smoke had cleared up.

Archer looked over to his left to where Yoda sat. For a second, he held a wicked image in his mind of the green skinned Jedi turning a few shades greener with bulging cheeks trying not to vomit. But the expression he saw on the Master Jedi's face was far less humorous and far more despairing as Yoda's eyes came open. Archer would have sworn for a second that he might have seen tears forming in the aged teacher's eyes.

"You okay?" Archer asked him.

Yoda looked up at him sadly, "A dark disturbance in the Force I have felt." It looked like he might shiver. "A dark disturbance." He repeated. "Much more complicated this has become."

"What do you mean?" The Captain asked him, concerned. "Is your mission still a go?"

Yoda thought for a minute. "Yes." He finally said. "Yes. Go through with this the both of us must. For this reason do we exist. Know everything about what has happened, I do not."

"Got it." Archer replied, though his own insides began to twist in knots at the thought of whatever could have given the powerful Jedi Master the expression of despair that now adorned his elf like features.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Klag observed the box like tera'ngan craft as it put down on the bedrock near the great ring, but himself remained in the shadows of the sand stone buildings. The Emperor was looking down at him and judging him at this moment. He did not fear them. He would not fear them or any Fek'lhr they brought with them. But he would not reveal himself until he was ready. The confrontation would be on his terms, not theirs.

No doubt they would have some kind of bio-signs detector to locate him. Let them come. He had no intentions of being captured by the demon consorting humans even if they tried to use their dishonorable stunning weapons that he had head rumors of.

He retreated back into the village, and back into the structure which had been his shelter from the suns above. His beacon was almost complete, at least he believed it was. Everything looked right from what he remembered of the technology instruction he had received. The human components he had to work with were so rudimentary, the tera'nganpu' had made his job easy for him. He was certain it would do its job well.

He bent down and connected the power source he had scavenged, and lights on the device began to blink. It emitted no sound, but it would keep repeating the same message over and over again on subspace frequencies out into the stars until the power cell died:

"Humans have desecrated Debma'."

Within hours, the whole Klingon Empire would know what had happened here. Then the humans would know the Klingon heart in the wrath of the sons of Kahless.

Satisfied that this task was completed, he pulled the D'k tahg blade which had hung on his waist in its sheath out and into his hand. He turned the blade over inspecting it, holding it reverently. On the hilt was inscribed the crest of his House. It was a noble and honorable house, if among the Klingon families. He would not dishonor it. Not today. Not ever.

The words of the ancient song began to stir in his mind and heart:

"Qoy qeylIs puqloD  
Qoy puqbe'pu'  
yoHbogh malthbogh je' SuvwI'  
Sey'moHchu' may' 'Iw  
maSuv manong 'ej maHoHchu'  
nI'be'yInmaj 'ach wovqu'!

batlh maH ghbej'jyoqIjDaq  
vavpu'ma' DImuvpa'reH maSuvtaH  
Qu' DamevQo' maSuvtaH, ma'ov"

Before he realized what he was doing he found his own voice repeating the words with a passion he had never thought possible. Was this what true faith was?

 _Hear! Sons of Kahless_

 _Hear! Daughters too._

 _The blood of battle washes clean._

 _The warrior brave and true._

 _We fight, we love, and then we kill._

 _Our lives burn short and bright._

 _Then we die with honor and join_

 _our fathers in the Black Fleet_

 _Where we battle forever,_

 _Battling on through the eternal fight._

The words came out reverently as a hymn to the Emperor himself, and he felt a peace wash over him, a calmness and sense of honor driven purpose he had never known before. It was the calm before battle, and he knew he would win because the greatest enemy had been the cowardice in his own heart, and it was no more.

Standing up straight, and facing the open doorway, he recited a another short litany to Kahless, the great Emperor and bringer of honor to his people. Then with the Emperor properly honored, he went out into the dueling suns's light to meet his would be tera'ngan conquerors.

The Klingon stood a good fifteen meters away from Archer in between two of the outer structures as the away team exited the craft. He seemed tense, but determined. A strange, wicked looking dagger was held in his right hand threateningly, blade pointing downwards as if poised to strike.

"You know, I'm not too sure he really wants to be rescued." Archer remarked for Yoda to hear as the Jedi Master also came to stand next to him.

"Made an offer must be nonetheless, Captain." Yoda responded, his voice sad and tired. "If not for him, then for us. Lose sight of who we must be we cannot."

Archer considered this and then slowly nodded his understanding wordlessly. It was a lesson he himself had learned at a great cost to his own conscience several years before. He didn't want to go back to being who he felt he had to become in that mission that at times seemed so dark that some days he couldn't find the light in anything; in himself least of all.

The M.A.C.O. soldiers came out to stand immediately to Archer's side, their phase rifles in their hands, but not aimed at anything or anyone. Their trigger fingers held ready.

"Set your rifles to stun, soldiers." Archer instructed them. He heard immediate clicks come from the rifles in response to his order. "We don't want to actually hurt him, even if he doesn't feel the same way about us." He added.

Yoda nodded his agreement.

Then the Klingon raised the dagger in his right hand high and shouted across the desert something which sounded like, "tlhingan wo' batlhDaq jiHegh jiH!".

Archer looked to his translator, Hoshi Sato in confusion for an explanation.

Then Archer saw Hoshi's face extend in horror and heard her scream.

His eyes flew back to the Klingon. To Archer's own surprise and horror, the Klingon had plunged the dagger into his own chest and pulled it sideways tearing whatever vital organs might have been in his chest. The big alien warrior dropped to his knees, his hand still on the hilt, his eyes ablaze with a fiery defiance as pink fluid flooded the front of his clothes. Then he fell sideways onto the stone paving of the ruins.

"Go!" Archer shouted to the M.A.C.O.s "Try and stop the bleeding!" He ran towards the Klingon with them, but he already knew it would be too late.

"Hoshi, what did he say?!" Archer yelled behind him as he reached the dead Klingon, demanding to know, not understanding in the slightest what just happened.

Hoshi didn't look at him, and had averted her eyes too late from the scene. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "He said, 'I die for the honor of the Klingon empire', sir."

Archer looked towards the soldiers who had reached the body first and were already checking to find any pulse they could. But the pool of pink blood told him everything he needed to know and his run slowed to a stop. The soldiers looked back at him and shook their heads, confirming what he already knew. The Klingon was dead.

 _What a damned waste_ , Archer thought to himself as he closed his eyes and tried to steady himself from the angry sorrow which was building within him.

Under his breath he said silently, "I will never understand these people. Never."

"A long time is never." Came the voice of the aged Jedi Grand Master from somewhere next to him. "Died for something important I sensed he believed. Respect this much at least I can, if not the response."

"Did you know this would happen?" Archer asked, his voice tinged with anger.

Yoda paused then sighed. "No. Sensed a determination and faith within him I did. But this? No way of knowing I had. His people I do not know."

The anger died away within the Captain. _Not even Jedi are omniscient_ , he reminded himself.

"Much time we do not have, Captain Archer. Go Travis and I must if we are to stop more death from spreading." Yoda told him.

Archer opened his eyes and looked down at Yoda. "Of course." He said respectfully. "Forty eight hours. Good luck." He added.

"Understood." Yoda responded, and then returned to the shuttle where his apprentice was waiting.

Daniel Jackson watched the whole scene unfold silently, unable to do anything to stop it. Just like he could do nothing to stop the beacon, or even warn the captain who had earned the ascended being's respect. Uria had made that perfectly clear.

The captain had been right. It was a waste of an otherwise good man for a Klingon. He might have gone on and been a great spiritual leader for his people, but now no one would ever know what his future might have held.

For a brief moment, he wondered if perhaps Kahless had been watching the whole scene. Was it possible the former emperor had ascended? The Milky Way galaxy was a big place. There were thousands of ascended beings that he didn't know, maybe even more. He wondered if the Klingon icon would really have approved of his follower's actions or not.

His attention then turned of necessity to the two mortals who now stood in front of the stargate's D.H.D., and he watched as the taller of the two dialed the same sequence of symbols which he himself had known all too well. They were the symbols for Earth. In his life they had come themselves to symbolize home, and he knew this time they would connect.

And he couldn't do anything to stop it from happening.

The chevrons lit up under Yoda's careful direction and the familiar vortex of space and time whooshed out and then back. In the center of the great ring stood what looked like a pool or puddle of water standing on its side.

The tall, dark, athletic Jedi in the blue Starfleet jumpsuit took a metal cylinder out of his pocket and held it ready in his hand as he approached the gate slowly.

"I know Colonel Shepherd said it wasn't that different from the transporter," he said to Yoda as he looked at the active stargate with a sense of awe. "But to be honest, looking at it like this again, I'm not so certain about it now."

"Your own choice this is. Make it for you no one can. Yours alone is the responsibility, but the consequences the whole galaxy will feel regardless of the choice you make." Yoda told him sagely.

"Right. No pressure then, master." Travis said ironically.

But Daniel knew that the Jedi-helmsman had already made his choice. He had made his choice long before he set foot in the shuttlepod.

"This is what we do." Travis repeated to himself, and then he added, "There is no emotion, there is only peace..."

Daniel could feel the peace that then surged through Travis' consciousness, and the Jedi stepped forward towards the wall of energy and then, unlit lightsaber in hand, he crossed the threshold and disappeared. Behind him, Yoda followed wordlessly, and the gate's platform was empty.

 _I promised I wouldn't interfere._ He told himself, making up his mind. _I didn't say anything about staying put here._

Sensing that the gate was about to close, in the blink of an eye he launched the energy of his presence towards the stargate and then plunged through the pool after them. Then, quietly, the gate deactivated and became a silent monument once again.

Unknown and unheard to the remaining _Enterprise_ crewmen, the Klingon beacon continued to cry out its message of violation of the warrior people's sacred world to the stars.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Travis emerged from a puddle of energy in a cavernous room that he had never seen before. The hilt of his lightsaber still rested firmly in the palm of his right hand as he quickly took in his surroundings.

The chamber was empty of any other living beings that he could see or feel. He was standing on a raised metal platform which extended into a metal grated ramp which itself led down to a polished cement floor. Around the room had been set up power conduits, computers, and other technical equipment which lined the archaic, utilitarian cinder block walls.

The whole place had the feel and smell of an ancient military installation from before the Eugenics Wars. It was kind of like Zephram Cochrane's old warp experiment museum in Montana his parents took him to when they had been planetside on Earth during his third grade year. That had been a converted nuclear missile silo, and this looked a lot like the lowest floor of one too.

Behind him, as he turned all the way around, was a stargate identical to the one he had just come through, and behind that was more cider block wall and equipment. As he turned around again, he saw directly in front of and above where he stood a set of windows which looked like they concealed some kind of control room behind them.

 _Fear_. The sense came rippling through the Force. He could sense much fear and terror lingering in the Force around him. It felt cold and dark even though the overhead lighting left no shadows in the large chamber.

He flipped the switch on his lightsaber which sprang to life with its white prismatic blade that strongly reminded him of a stream of warp plasma the first time he had seen it engaged. He assumed the similarity was due to the dilithium crystal which was at the heart of the weapon.

As he stepped forward cautiously, he heard another being step forward out of the stargate, tapping a cane as he walked.

Yoda said nothing, but closed his eyes as if searching for something. When he opened them, there was a single tear which fell.

"Too late we were I fear." The Jedi master whispered.

"Too late for what?" Travis asked, his eyes and senses tuned to every direction around him.

Yoda didn't answer but slowly continued forward across the platform and down the ramp until his small, bare clawed feet hit the cement.

Travis could feel the deep sadness radiating off of him, and didn't know how to help. He had come to understand that Yoda had his own reasons for what he information revealed and what he didn't. He knew those reasons could have galaxy wide consequences.

"Search for survivors we must." Yoda said softly.

"Survivors of what?" Travis asked as he followed him.

"The dark side of the Force," Yoda answered ominously, "feel it do you?"

"Yeah. It feels cold." Travis responded. "The space around us feels filled with fear, like dozens of people became terrified all at once and then..."

"Gone were they." Yoda finished for him. "Yes. Focused on the Force stay you, listen to what it tells you. This you must do."

"Yes, master." Travis replied as he kept his eyes scanning the room.

He recognized the equipment, it was Starfleet issue. As he looked around, he took in the fact that all the signs and computer displays he saw were in English. His instincts told him this was a Starfleet facility.

 _Danger, from the left and above you_. The Force warned him and his lightsaber instantly came up to deflect the phase pulses which aimed at his head. The streams of energy passed harmlessly into the cement floor, but left deep gouges behind them.

 _From the right and forward._ The lightsaber's blade sliced through the air to catch the next beam of plasma which had been aimed at him. Without thought, Travis through the lightsaber at the offending automated weapon and it was reduced to slag before he called the hilt back to his hand only to send it flying out again at the first cannon, and another that he could feel was powering up. By the time the saber returned to his hand for good no less than five automated phase cannons had been destroyed, two of them by their own plasma streams.

"More of these weapons there most likely are." Yoda remarked calmly. "Prepared we must be."

Travis didn't reply. He didn't need to as he passed by the blackened gouges left by the phase cannon fire. Then he noticed something else on the cement floor. It was a large stain of some kind.

He knelt down and inspected it. It looked like something organic had been _dissolved_. Whatever had melted it had been an insane amount of heat.

"Master Yoda, you might want to see this." He told the Jedi master.

"Know about them I already do." Yoda replied sadly.

"Them?" Travis asked, he had noticed only the one stain. He looked back to Yoda in confusion, and the diminutive figure simply pointed towards the floor in other parts of the chamber where other, similar stains and splotches covered the floor. And then as he looked, he saw one "stain" that hadn't fully dissolved. Instead, on the edge, there was a human hand with a gold wedding band which had been severed and cauterized at the wrist.

Bile began to rise in Travis' throat, and he could feel anger begin to rise within him. As soon as he saw it, he began to recite the Jedi's code, "There is no emotion, there is only peace..." His anger now would only make things worse for everyone he knew.

"Not meant for just us those weapons were." Yoda told him. "Up there we must check."

Yoda pointed towards the windows overlooking the stargate chamber.

Understanding now the stakes involved, Travis stood up and said solemnly, "Let's go."

The two headed through a large doorway that looked as though it had originally been protected by a huge rolling metal door. Yoda then turned an immediate right through another door and up a small flight of stairs.

The control room was silent as the grave as Travis and Yoda entered. Not much had been altered in terms of the original pre-third world war structure or architecture anywhere in the facility, but Travis saw signs of Starfleet and Starfleet technology everywhere enhancing and upgrading the existing systems. An acrid odor assaulted Travis's nose like meat that had been burnt to charcoal at a barbecue, but for the darkness of the room, he couldn't make out where it had come from.

As he looked at all of the archaic computer systems being integrated into their modern counter parts, the encounter they had to get the coordinates to come here ran through his mind. After Yoda had told Archer where they needed to go and that it was now under the control of Starfleet intelligence, the Captain had taken the two Jedi to Colonel Shepherd to get the stargate address. They needed to make the link between the desert world and Earth's original Stargate Command facility and he had only surrendered it under some protest.

"If the gate is active, we should be going with you! Hell, that's part of our primary mission objectives!" He exclaimed when the Captain, Yoda, and he had gone to him for the sequence of symbols that would take them back to Earth.

"If what master Yoda says is right, they'll be walking into a classified Starfleet intelligence facility owned by the United Earth government, and not by the old United States anymore." Archer had reasoned with him. "As a lieutenant in Starfleet, Travis might have a chance to talk his and Yoda's way through without being arrested if nothing's actually wrong. What do you think their reaction will be if a squad of unknown armed soldiers comes through? You won't make it past the stargate itself."

"And if something is wrong?" The Atlantis colonel had asked.

Archer looked down at Yoda in a knowing fashion before looking back up at Ronan. "If something like what Yoda suggests is wrong, it may not matter if you took four or forty of your men in. It would be a massacre."

"And you think just these two, uh..." Ronan looked down at Yoda and paused before he said, "guys… these two guys could deal with it on their own?"

Without hesitating, Archer responded, "Colonel, I think these two are the only ones now living qualified to deal with what's going on there right now."

It had taken a little while longer after that to mollify the Atlantis soldier, but he eventually handed over the address to Earth. Unsurprisingly, Jennifer McKay had been harder to convince, but in the end she had been given no choice either. The facility was the jurisdiction of Starfleet and the United Earth government. It was Starfleet's job, and therefore the _Enterprise_ crew's job, and not the Atlantis team's to deal with it.

The room was darkened except for the blinking lights of several control consoles and computer panels around the room. The centerpiece controls seemed to center around an ancient keyboard and monitor system with an antique hand scanner for security.

Six symbols plus one were held frozen on one of the monitors. They were symbols found on the stargate and strongly resembled the address for Earth that he had committed to memory.

 _Had someone used the stargate recently?_ He wondered. His instincts were screaming at him that this wasn't good.

"Master Yoda." He called out.

Yoda didn't answer, and Travis turned his head towards the rest of the relatively small room, his eyes now adjusted to the dim lighting. Yoda stood near something large and blackened which lay on the floor in the corner of the room away from the windows. As Travis focused on the object, he realized it was vaguely humanoid, and curled up in the fetal position. It looked like it might have been a man once, a man that had been roasted alive.

Travis quickly looked away, trying to keep his nausea under control. "Master, I think someone might have used the stargate recently." He said, looking back towards the monitor.

Yoda turned away from the charred body and moved to see what Travis was seeing. He was not encouraged.

"Disturbing this is, and unexpected." The Jedi Master pronounced. "Search the facility we must. Need more information we do."

The two left the control room, and began a search of the underground bunker. In order to cover more ground, Travis went one direction, and Yoda went another. The floor they were on was not overly large as they went from room to room. But all they found was more of the same. The stench of charred flesh hung heavy in the air of the hallways, and remote phase cannons were planted everywhere it seemed. Travis figured out that they had been programmed to shoot at movement. Several were reduced to slag by the lightsaber. Others were ripped off their mounts and smashed against the cement walls by Yoda's command of the Force.

"I don't understand." Travis said as he met up with his master again. "Who would just kill everyone like this? I can still feel their terror in the air." He shivered. "It's almost overwhelming."

"Feeds the dark side fear does." Yoda responded. "Gives a Sith lord power creating terror does."

"But how did a Sith lord get here and now? That's what I don't understand. No one really knows about or believes in the Force now, at least not on Earth. There hasn't been a Jedi or a Sith for millions of years as far as I know. Why now? What changed?" Travis asked.

"Old knowledge left behind. Into the wrong hands it fell. Dangerous knowledge. Dark knowledge." Yoda told him. "Remember much of the details I do not. However, remember the consequences all too well I do." They had been standing in a corridor lined with blackened stains, and Yoda gestured to them as he said this. He then said, "Find the source of this knowledge we must, and destroy it and its disciple before worse things happen."

"Worse things?" Travis asked.

"The destruction of a peaceful galactic republic that had stood for a thousand years, over a hundred Jedi masters, knights, padawans, and younglings," Yoda's voice punctuated each title with no small amount of sorrow, "and the entire planet of Alderaan the rise of just one unknown Sith lord in my time did." He responded with some pain in his voice. "Your galaxy and world I would spare this fate. Long finished has been our time, the time of Jedi and Sith. Rise again our conflicts should not. The last of the Jedi you are, Travis Mayweather. When done this is, our order and knowledge, die with you they must to protect your civilization. Our memory left to myth and legend must be."

The memory of the events which Yoda spoke of, as depicted in the _Star Wars_ movies he had viewed, ran through his mind and the gravity, and heartbreak of the reality of those events slammed into him in a way that they had never done before. He could feel the Jedi master's pain as he remembered the devastation wrought by the passion driven wielders of the dark side of the Force. He had lost all of those whom had been like family to him, most of whom he had himself raised and trained like his own children for almost a millennium. He had felt the Jedi master's deep pain of being betrayed by one whom he had helped raise like a son. It was deep and sorrowful and began to move Travis to tears.

"Appreciate your compassion for my pain, I do, but time for mourning those long dead we do not have." Yoda chided him, bringing him back to the present. "Come, search upstairs we must."

Daniel viewed the remains of the technicians with deep regret. There was nothing he could have done, he knew, but that didn't make him feel any better about it as he wondered the corridors of his one time home. Memories of his life here filled every twist and turn of the old facility, and now it was marred by death and cold darkness of energy at every one of those turns.

He did not follow the two Jedi as they made there way through the remains of what was Stargate Command. There was no point. He could not assist them. And they would soon come to the same conclusion that he already knew by virtue of his ascended state. Neither what nor who they were looking for were here any longer.

And that was a bad thing. That was a very bad thing.

But there was something worse about the situation that Daniel knew, but neither Travis nor even Yoda did. Daniel had no idea where Wilson had gone, and he had no idea why he didn't know. It was as if the man's mind suddenly just dropped out of existence or became cloaked in some way. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before unless the man had left the Milky Way altogether, and Daniel knew the power requirements for that still didn't exist here, even with the antimatter reactor that Wilson's people, now blackened smudges on the cement, had installed in the old power distribution room. It still required a Z.P.M.

No, his disappearance from Daniel's awareness had to do with the holocron's instruction in the dark side of the Force. Wilson had learned how to mask his presence in the Force, and somehow that blinded ascended beings to him as well. With all the power Daniel now controlled, he suddenly felt more impotent than ever.

Daniel returned to the gate room. He knew the address to which Wilson had traveled very well. Whether or not it was his final destination, however, he couldn't say. There would only be one way to find out, and he had to leave it up to the two mortals still left alive…

No, he realized as he suddenly became aware of another consciousness remaining in the underground base. There were three.

Someone survived.

"Wait, Master Yoda." Travis suddenly said, stopping the elder Jedi from entering yet another seemingly empty room. "Do you feel that? Down the corridor."

Yoda paused and reached out with the Force. "Mmm. Life I feel. Afraid but alive."

The two Jedi hurried down the corridor to turn into and through a doorway that looked like some kind of a spartan conference room. In the center of the room was a long wooden table with chairs which had been placed around it.

On the walls were modern computer monitors and consoles depicting maps and charts of planets scattered around the galaxy. Computer generated lines connected each world together in a massive galaxy wide network that went far beyond anything humans had explored. It stretched across all four quadrants of the Milky Way.

"What is this?" Travis asked aloud in wonder, temporarily forgetting the reason why he entered the room.

Yoda briefly glanced at it before turning his attention to an unobtrusive door set into the wall across the room. "A map of the stargate network it is." He said dismissively.

"There must be thousands of them across the entire Milky Way." Travis remarked.

"Yes." Was all Yoda would answer as he came to stand in front of the door. "In here." He told Travis, calling the Starfleet officer back to the reason why they were in that room.

The strong stench of urine and feces emanated from behind the door. Ignoring it, Travis gripped the doorknob and turned it, swinging the door open.

It was a small closet of some kind. It had long since been cleaned out of anything useful. But on the floor of the closet huddled in a fetal position sat a dark haired human woman wearing the blue jumpsuit of a Starfleet uniform. The red trim along the uniform told Travis that she was in a support role, and he guessed she was an engineer.

The woman didn't look up at him, but instead continued to stare straight ahead, her face blanched white, her eyes wide with terror. The crotch of her uniform was soaked in yellow liquid, and there was a brown stain coming up from the seat. Travis's eyes looked to the name sewn into the uniform, _Gallardo._ The single pip on her jumpsuit told him she was an ensign.

"Ensign Gallardo?" Travis asked gently. His heart was moved with compassion for the terrified woman. Whatever she had seen… He couldn't even imagine what would do this to someone.

She didn't respond.

He knelt down and put his hand on her shoulder. He poured as much calmness and peace as he could into the Force and allowed it to flow through him and into her own living energy.

"Ensign Gallardo?" He asked again, gently.

The woman's head snapped towards him, her eyes staring at his face, studying it, but she said nothing.

"Ensign, it's okay. We're here to help you." Travis told her.

She spoke, and when she did, her voice seemed weak and raspy as though she had screamed for hours on end, "He killed them." She said. "He killed them all."

"Who killed them?" Travis asked.

Her eyes went blank, and then she focused them on Travis and asked, "Do you believe in the devil, Lieutenant?"

"The devil?" Travis asked, the cold feeling returning.

"I saw him. I thought it was our C.O. at first, but I was wrong. I was so wrong. Lightning flashed from his fingertips and Sullivan died. And the devil laughed. He laughed with those glowing, pale yellow eyes. And then he waved his hand and the security cannons opened up on all of us. I ran. I ran and hid. But I could still feel him. I couldn't see him, but I knew he could see me. I felt him in my mind." Her eyes filled with tears. "It was like the more terrified I became, he became more and more powerful. He spoke to me."

"Said what did he, dear one?" Yoda asked gently.

"I didn't understand the message, but he said to give the people who find me this message." She said.

"What was the message?" Travis asked.

Her tears began to flow freely now as she said, "You have already lost."

The dark robed figure stepped out of the energy pool and onto the ancient stone platform as he surveyed the new world the wormhole had brought him to. In his hand was the handle of a case containing a tablet computer, and three geometrically shaped solids.

The new world had a lightly clouded blue sky, and a shining warm sun overhead. Around the stargate platform there were ancient stone pillars which had been erected. Each of the pillars was inscribed in a script he did not know how to read, though the keys to decoding it, among a wealth of other useful data, were contained in the storage unit of the tablet in his travel case.

In the area around the platform and pillars there were the trees of a great deciduous forest, and in the sky overhead, two moons were competing with the sun for dominance in the sky.

Not far off, he could see the rooftops of a village with cooking fires rising up from brick and mortar smokestacks. And in the far distance, the walls of a much larger city rose up protectively.

But for the moment, he was more concerned with the white and gray robed individual whose face wore an expression of reverent confusion. His robes were inscribed with a symbol like a sharp staff with a loop at the top.

"Greetings friend." The man said cautiously, and then he added, "Hallowed are the Ori!"

Wilson smiled a wide toothy smile and said in response, "Indeed."

(To be continued in _Star Trek: Enterprise – The Way of the Jedi_ )


End file.
